Return to the Shadows
by PaperGirlInAPaperTown
Summary: Hatred is a formidable force - so Pitch Black discovers upon encountering Valentina, the newest Guardian to be appointed by MIM after a series of concerning nightmare attacks. As a painful past intertwines with the present, the opposing entities of Fear and Love will soon realise nothing is as it seems, and that even the most cold and twisted heart might be worthy of redemption.
1. It's got to be him

**Author's Note:**

Hello and welcome! I've had this idea for a while now and I feel like it's been begging to get out. I'm not sure how it's going to all happen exactly at this stage, but I hope that what ever turns this plot and these characters take you enjoy the ride. I like to think of this as my interpretation of a sequel to the movie, seeing as they're yet to give us one, which is outrageous. In any case, it takes place after the events of 'Rise of the Guardians'.

As an Australian, I like to think that Bunny and myself are kindred spirits and as such I might throw in slang for him from time to time. I'll try and explain it before or after each chapter.

I don't have much more to say other than enjoy and please feel free to review, feedback is golden.

 **Disclaimer:** I do not, nor will I ever, own anything associated with _Rise of the Guardians_ or the _Guardians of Childhood_. I can only lay claim to my OC, Valentina, and any others that might make an appearance.

* * *

 **Prologue**

A deafening rumble followed Lady Pitchiner as she ran for dear life down the vast, marbled corridors of her home, a moon residing within the constellation Orion. Gasping for breath, she hastened to find her daughter with lengths of her straight, dark hair flying wildly behind her.

"Emily! Emily Jane!"

She cared not if the Dream Pirates heard her. She was no fool, but she knew that while her husband was well respected as the Lord High General of the Galaxies he had a horde of enemies, each more vile and ruthless than the last. It was for this reason she'd long ago accepted fate may meet her this way. Now they were here it would only be a matter of time.

Lord Pitch, as he was known by his command, had been called away in urgency to handle a threat just off the tip of Orion's Sword. She suspected he was yet to realise he'd been duped. Would help come for them in time? She didn't think so.

Still, she grasped on to a last shred of hope. Rounding the corner, the ornate doors to Emily Jane's bedchambers came into view and she gave one final sprint, throwing them open. Gazing around with darting eyes, she found it completely empty. At first, she could only think the worst and sobbed into her fist. However, as her heart threatened to break in despair, she noticed something, or lack thereof. The right hand side of her daughter's bed post was usually home to a pair of aviator's goggles, made small to fit the face of her wonderfully bright and adventurous six year old. But the goggles were missing, and she didn't need check the dock to know her schooner would be, too.

 _Good!_ she thought. _She's out on her ship_. For once, she was thankful for Emily Jane's rebellious heart. _Kozmotis, the adventure you inspired in our daughter has kept her safe_. He would never hear her sentiment, but she chose to believe that if she sent that thought out into the universe, perhaps he would somehow understand.

Closing the doors, she barricaded herself in, buying some time before the inevitable. It was only moments later that a crash from the corridor alerted her to the advancing Dream Pirates, knowing full well that the fearlings would be following close behind. Alarmingly, an almighty bang resounded as the doors were being struck with enough force to shake her to her core. They were trying to break in.

 _They'll be looking for us both_ , she realised grimly.

Immediately, she began to formulate a plan, for she was intelligent and resourceful, and knew exactly what had to be done. Her daughter was not there, but that didn't mean that, if unfound, the Dream Pirates would allow her to remain so. They would stop at nothing, and she knew the fate of those unfortunate souls taken by these demonic thugs, their dreams sucked dry in mindless enslavement - or worse.

 _They must be made to think we have died._

Spying a doll, only fractionally smaller than Emily Jane herself, she held it close and arranged her cloak to reveal the suggestion that it might be her child. As she waited with bated breath, she prayed that when all had passed her husband and daughter would find each other again, even once it was too late for her.

The doors were forged open, splintered by sheer brute force, and the ruffian pirates poured their way in. Terrible, deformed and soulless, they came for her. She was already by the window.

"I will find you again, my dear," she whispered for her beloved, a vow to transcend time and space.

"She's got the girl, get them both!" one of them ordered. Before they could reach her with their gnarled limbs, before they could even comprehend what was about to transpire, Lady Pitchiner threw herself out of the window in a shattering of broken glass.

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

The world had descended into a joyful madness as the holiday season was in full swing. Lights were lit, fruitcakes were baked and trees were trimmed. Christmas carols rang out in every shop. The days had been getting colder, accompanied by a pleasant chill that made one more appreciative of the coziness of home, with its fireplace and the smell of something delicious cooking.

A figure, who's face was concealed by the hood of his jumper, lounged lazily on a rooftop. He was merely observing the neighbourhood, taking in the festivities and sharing the excitement of children who waited impatiently for the arrival of "Santa's" gifts in just three days time (for North always delivered with impeccable taste). It was truly magical. Or rather, it should have been. There was something missing, the boy thought mischievously. It just needed a touch of Frost…

With a leap he flew from the roof into the waiting arms of the wind which carried him higher and higher, until he could see the entire town.

"Ok Burgess," he announced as he felt his magic start to build, "get ready for your first snow day!"

The small, contained blizzard of ice he had been whirling and wielding in his hands suddenly exploded and then dispersed in a flurry snowflakes, disappearing into the clouds that surrounded him. Within seconds the first snow of winter had begun to fall. Water particles frozen in perfect hexagonal formations danced and spun as they fell towards the earth, catching the amber-rose light of the setting sun in the distance. It was beautiful, Jack thought. By tomorrow the town would be blanketed in snow, then the real fun would begin; sledding and snowball fights, the very best parts of winter.

The fact of the matter was this: Jack Frost's job no longer entailed merely the bringing of winter, but to protect the children of the world along with the other four Guardians. His new role was something he now took very seriously. Well, as seriously as he could when his speciality, his centre, was fun and helping children realise it. But he understood his importance in the grand scheme of things. And in doing so he gained the companionship he'd so desperately longed for during those many lonely centuries, welcomed with open arms into a team of dedicated protectors chosen by the Man in the Moon, himself; The Guardians of Childhood. Even Bunnymund wasn't nearly as resentful as he had been before Jack had taken the oath. The incident involving the "Blizzard of 68" had been forgiven… mostly. In any case, he had proven himself to be a valuable member of the Guardian's united front and took a great deal of pride in the idea that he helped save the world from a new age of chaos and darkness some years ago. And Pitch? He hadn't been heard from since he was attacked by his own devices: polluted dreamsand that formed the fear-sensing Night-Mares. He had retreated underground where he was possibly lurking in his lair to this day. For the time being at least, light and dreams had vanquished fear.

The sky, which had deepened into an inky indigo following dusk, was suddenly illuminated in gold as the Sandman made a grand entrance, bringing with him the sweetest of dreams to fill the children's heads. Jack had perched on a new roof to watch as his fellow Guardian got to work.

"Perfect timing, Sandy!" Jack called to the golden man as he approached on a cloud of glittering dust. In salutations, Sandy sent a friendly wave toward him which transformed as he reached out to to touch it. The glittering silhouette of a dog leapt to life and played in shambles with him, eliciting a peal of laugher from the winter spirit as they dodged each other this way and that. All around them, Sandy's dreams were helping the children of the neighbourhood into the realm of sleep, a fireworks display in slow motion.

With the knowledge that the dream weaver still had plenty of work to do, Jack was about to let the wind carry him home to the North Pole, but he was halted by the sounds of someone, a child, crying. The whimpers were coming from an upstairs room of a nearby house. It struck him as odd, given that the golden sand was effectively at work everywhere else. So with an apprehensive curiosity, he floated over to the window to investigate. Unfortunately what he found was deeply troubling.

"Sandy! Quick, get down here," Jack called up to him insistently. Sandy descended with a large question mark over his head and an inquisitive expression on his face. "I don't know what's going on, I mean you're the expert, but kids aren't supposed to do _that_ ," he gestured into the room of a girl aged around 7 or 8, "are they?"

The Sandman peered into the room and was shocked. As his dreamsand was attempting to work on the girl, it was fighting against a dark substance that was all too familiar to them both. In a messy tug-of-war one attempted to consume the other, causing the child to become distressed in her sleep. Jack felt his concern tighten in his chest. The presence of crystallised fear meant only one thing.

He pressed an icy hand to the window pane, leaving a light frost in its wake. "Is there anything you can do?"

Sandy raised an eyebrow at Jack's misconstrued dismay and glanced at him as if to say _really?_ Of course there was. After being destroyed by Pitch, the man had practically been resurrected from the dead and still managed to come out on top. Making light work of the situation, he eradicated the black sand with ease. The girl settled and, with some extra help, began dreaming of everything that was wonderful to her. They departed from the window to leave her in peace, landing in the middle of the deserted street.

Jack began to speak with a hushed urgency. "If that stuff is here, then we have a problem."

Sandy nodded vigorously as symbols and images flashed at a rapid speed above his head, too fast to be comprehended by Jack.

"You have to slow down, man, you know that's not helping," he sighed apologetically. It wasn't the dream weaver's fault that his translatability often ran away with his excitement.

Sandy exhaled sharply in frustration. Instead, he conjured up, in miniature, a tall, sharp figure, with a pointed face and cloaking that seemed to melt into the ground. Jack's hands tightened protectively around his staff.

"I know. It's got to be him."

Sandy nodded gravely. Out of nowhere a dark mass too quick to be seen raced past with a shriek, nearly mowing them down in it's path. Stumbling into attack mode, Jack Frost and the Sandman stood back to back, prepared to fight whatever was threatening them. But they saw nothing and the street fell silent once more. Jack was breathing heavily, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He glanced around wildly on high alert.

"Did you see that? What in the.."

Sandy tugged at the sleeve of his jumper, trying to get his attention, and pointed down the road. There, at the edge of the park, a pair of yellow eyes watched them silently. Then with no noise at all, their owner disappeared into the shadows without a trace. Jack felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end - but the cold was not to blame.

"You know what this means," he determined.

The Sandman's expression hardened into a grimace.

As much as it filled him with dread to acknowledge, it was apparent their mortal enemy had decided to fight back once again. "So much for peace and quiet around here."

Together, Jack and the Sandy made the journey to the North Pole which also served as headquarters for the five Guardians. For the spirit of winter it was something of a homecoming. He had unofficially moved into the base and in the end it had almost become a necessity. Being believed in was definitely an improvement from the life he'd led perviously, and an essential part of being a Guardian. However there were some drawbacks, for instance the manner in which he existed had to be changed. His home had always been the town of Burgess, for as long as his memory served him. But being believed was to then be seen, and although sightings by the local children weren't the end of the world, it was important a sense of mystery remained. So when North suggested for him to take a room for his own (as far away from the workshop as possible at Phil's request), he immediately agreed. And if anything the constant winter was a bonus.

With a graceful agility they touched down onto the floor of North's central room, some unfocused elves scrambling out of the way just in time. The giant model globe rotated on its axis gently above them and was aglow with millions of lights, each one representing a child who believed. Jack nudged Sandy in reassurance.

"Well, at least that thing's still going," He chuckled. His companion, however, seemed vaguely unconvinced and busied himself with trying to locate the man they sought. At that moment, Jack's attention was caught by something less than favourable. Directly above Burgess, several lights had begun flickering until, after some seconds of deliberation, they went out all together. Out of the corner of his eye he saw two other lights begin to waver, one in New York, and the other in Baltimore.

"Uh oh.. That can't be good." he noted to himself. He became aware of some commotion coming from the main corridor. The decidedly Russian owner of the booming voice raised it to a volume where snippets of the heated discussion could be heard.

"…No no no! I tell you to just make them bigger, yes? But instead I get this?!" In reply there was grumbling that grew into a yell - evidently one of the yetis.

" But this is not…what… who approved this? Agh! Fine, make it work. I give up… three days.. neveroyatno!"

The grand doors leading into the main room burst open revealing a less-than-jolly, Nicholas St. North. He caught sight of them and instantly brightened.

"Sandy! Is nice to see you again," he greeted with a bone crushing hug. "And Jack," North folded his arms over his chest and raised an eyebrow suspiciously, "don't think I don't know that disappearing act for three days has nothing to do with frozen wrapping machine."

"Oh what, that?" Jack played along innocently, "No, those are two completely unrelated.. things. Uh, maybe you left the door open," he laughed sheepishly.

"Yes. And maybe elves did not short-circuit conveyor belt this year, eh?" North proposed sarcastically.

"It might happen," Jack shrugged with a grin.

"Enough talk, I am busy man. Is there something I can do for you both? I am trying to negotiate errors three days from Christmas."

"Actually yes," he began, "and believe me, we would not bother you right now if it wasn't important. You see, we ran into each other by chance and something really strange happened. A kid was having a nightmare, despite the dreamsand, and it looked like it might have been one of Pitch's."

To prove the point, Sandy reenacted what happened as he had tried to confront the tainted sand.

"Then one of those things, the Night-Mares, appeared out of nowhere nearly taking us with it. Unfortunately it disappeared in the park... the point is it looks like they're active again."

"Ah katastrofa," North exclaimed, "if you saw one of those then Pitch must not be far behind."

"Not only that," Jack continued, "but just now I saw the light of that kid flicker out. And the same thing is happening to kids in other cities too. I'm not sure if what we're dealing with is exactly the same as before but it's moving fast and if it keeps going we could have another crisis on our hands."

They turned to look at the globe, spinning slowly behind them, only to see that almost half the lights were out over the east coast and inner United States. The three of them stood in silent shock.

"This is worse than first thought," decided North. "Prepare yourselves. I am going signal for Tooth and Bunny." With hefty strides, he hurried over to the control booth and turned the key that prompted the Northern Lights.

"Wait, what about Christmas?" asked Jack in bewilderment. Surely he couldn't simply press pause on such a large operation.

"At this rate there will not be Christmas if problem is not fixed," said North eyeing the globe with worry. Already there were lights disappearing over England, with darkness spreading to Europe as well.

"The children of the world are once again in danger and is up to us to act as their protectors. I am not sure if we will survive another attack so soon after the last." Over head the Man in the Moon shone brighter than ever. "But," North added knowingly, "I think Manny has an idea."


	2. You've got to be kidding me

**A/N:** A big thank you to my lovely reviewers, you made my day and we will be seeing some Rainbow Snowcone going forward. I hope everyone has been having a wonderful holiday season, whatever you may be celebrating. And a happy New Year, because realistically I probably won't post anything new till then.

 **Slang:** Enter Bunny and his wonderful array of quips and snide remarks. This is where I'll be explaining any phrases or colloquialisms that may cause some confusion. The fun thing about Aussie slang is that we love to confuse you. For example,

Yeah, nah = No

Nah, yeah = Yes

(In this instance the intended exclamation is preceded by its positive or negative counter. Or to put it more simply, "no" means "yes", and "yes" means "no". Simple!)

Sheila = in reference to a woman

Strewth = a mild oath expressing surprise

* * *

The Tooth Fairy flitted above quickly and anxiously, still giving out orders to her fairies while trying to engage in the matter at hand.

"Ooh there's several in New Port, sector 12… You definitely saw the Night-Mare, Jack?… And four in Sydney, sector 2… I can't believe he's trying to pull another stunt… Oh my goodness have you ever seen a more perfect cuspid in your life!? More coming in from Budapest, sector 3, get moving-"

"Tooth!" interrupted North. "If we can please be having your full attention."

She shrugged apologetically. "Sorry! You'd think that peak season would be easter, but all that hard boiled candy from Halloween comes back with a vengeance just before Christmas," she explained as she smoothed back a feather on her head.

"Nah yeah, she's got a point there," came the affirmation from Bunny, with a vague gesture in their general direction as he looked over the control booth. "That bloody Jack -"

"Hey!"

"- O - Lantern. Ya know not everything's about you, right?." Bunny finished with a smirk

"I wasn't listening," Jack dismissed. "When you do say something important though, let me know. And yeah, Tooth, that's definitely what we saw, right Sandy?"

Sandy gave two thumbs-up.

She sighed. "Well thank goodness you're alright. I guess that would explain the lights though… Head over to New Delhi, we have two lateral incisors and three second molars - no, not from the same child… Oh!" Tooth stopped abruptly as a beam of bluish moonlight brightened the room. Jack had to squint his eyes, unaccustomed of being so directly addressed by the Man in the Moon.

"Ow, reckon he could tone it down a bit?" He joked to North. But the Russian was far more engrossed by what was happening to the mural six feet away from the control booth. Up until now, Jack had assumed that it was simply for decoration, but before his eyes the metal plate bearing a "G" disappeared below the floor and revealed a sizeable, roughly cut, turquoise crystal that rose up on a pedestal from the chamber it had been kept in.

"Oh, well this is interesting development." North commented and scratched his head thoughtfully.

"Wait, wait, wait. What? What is?" Jack demanded, looking from one spirit to another. Sandy raised his hand eagerly.

"Mate, every time you open your mouth you just make it more obvious that we're all one jump ahead of you." Bunny snickered.

"Slow and steady, cottontail." he reminded the rabbit. Sandy attempted to get his attention with images that passed above his head at a readable speed.

"Ok, let's see. Moon, snowflake and.." symbols of clovers, pumpkins, hearts and candles appeared and disappeared rapidly, "…slot machine?" he guessed as Sandy face-palmed.

Tooth finally interjected excitedly, "Jack, this happened when the Man in the Moon chose you."

The realisation dawned on him. "Is he choosing - "

"A new Guardian!" North yelled.

"Hang on, back up. Why do we need another one? We just got him," Bunny blatantly pointed at Jack, "no offence, mate."

Jack raised an eyebrow. "No, none at all."

"You're telling me the five of us aren't enough?" He looked up at the moon as though willing it to challenge his own power when North rested a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"Bunny, is nothing personal. If Manny thinks we need help, he must be right. And I don't think we can take a hit from Pitch like last time," he admitted reluctantly. Tooth's wings beat even faster as the crystal began to emit a soft glow that grew brighter.

"You guys, he's about to show us!" She shook Jack's shoulder, barely able to contain herself, which made him smile softly to himself. "This has never happened twice in a century before."

Bubbles of light pulsated and swirled together before revealing a feminine silhouette who's features became gradually clearer: A heart shaped face with a widows peak hairline that gave way to full, curly hair. Her bodice, pointed at each shoulder, came in tight at the waist, and her skirt pointed similarly on either side, starting at the hips and extending down to the ankles. The outfit was panelled and sectioned in pieces that flowed together to resemble a stained- glass window, and slung across her right shoulder was a bow and a quiver of arrows. In her right hand she presented a smokey, wispy creature that echoed the appearance of fire. What was most striking, however, was her expression. Her eyes appeared determined, with dark lips that quirked upward in a smirk.

The five Guardians were speechless until North decided to break the stunned silence.

"Ah. So we will have Valentina joining us, I suppose?" He didn't seem entirely convinced.

Bunny nudged Jack and began to confess. "Uh, you know how everything I've said to you since you were chosen has been -"

"…About how I'd make a terrible guardian?"

"Yeah. that."

"Yeah?"

"I take it all back."

Jack laughed, "sure you do."

"No, no. I mean it. That sheila's gonna be worse than you." Bunny reassured him.

Jack was amused until he saw the noticeable concern on each face. "Why is this a bad thing?" he asked with genuine confusion.

"Jack," Tooth turned to him, "do you know who Valentina is?"

"I know of her." He suggested.

"Valentina Cupidonia. She helps people find love, you know, relationships, soulmates." She raised her eyebrows slightly at him.

"Yeah sure I know that." He realised that he had been inching ever so slightly closer to her. "But, uh wha - what does that have to do with bringing joy to children?" he asked through a stammer.

"Strewth, it finally clicked," Bunny mocked. "Mate, you are slow."

North continued to explain, "what Tooth and Bunny are trying to say, it makes no sense why Manny would choose a guardian that has nothing to do with children."

Jack's head tilted to one side in thought as he assessed the vision again. She didn't seem like the romantic type with her hard expression and devious glint in her eyes. And certainly not the type to concern herself with children. Although admittedly North, with his brandishing of swords, wouldn't give that impression straight away either.

"I guess when you put it that way," he agreed. "But she might surprise us, you never know. I mean I did." He said through a mischievous grin and leant an elbow up on the crook of his staff. Bunny could be heard muttering something to the contrary under his breath.

North moved to face the group and made an announcement. "My fellow Guardians, it is once again time to welcome another among us. Although we may have eh, doubts about Manny's decision, we must have trust in him. And we must trust Valentina. The safety of the children depends on it." Sandy clapped silently, but none the less enthusiastically, in response. "Thank you, Sandy. Now, who wants to be one to bring her here? I get the sack. Bunny?"

Jack interrupted, "I think I speak on behalf of all future guardians when I say that that is not your most convincing method of recruitment."

North was genuinely surprised. "No? But it worked -"

"Just trust me on this one," he insisted.

Tooth raised her hand. "I can do it," she offered, "she shouldn't be too hard to find." North nodded in approval.

"Otlichno! Many thanks, Tooth. But what about tooth collecting?" he reminded her.

"Oh, it's fine," she replied, "nothing my fairies can't handle. Girls?" She turned to her helpers, "you know what to do. Keep everything going until I get back." With a series of small salutes, the fairies flitted away back to the Tooth Palace.

"In that case, here, take this with you. Use to come back with Valentina." North pulled a snow globe out from inside his coat pocket, placed it in a satchel that had been hanging up on the nearest wall and handed it to Tooth.

"Thanks, North." She turned to the rest of them as she ascended, "I'll be back soon," she farewelled. The other Guardians dispersed quickly to complete various jobs in preparation, but Jack hung back.

"Hey, um, Tooth?" he called. Upon hearing her name she turned back and flew down to him.

"Yes, Jack?" she laughed with a slight infliction on his name. He ran his fingers through his frosty white hair and seemed to have forgotten why he called her back.

"I just.. uh.. have a good trip," he finally uttered with some certainty, "and be careful, please," he added sincerely.

"I'll be fine," she reassured him brightly. "It's a quick trip, nothing to worry about. And besides," she continued with confidence, "I'm the fastest flyer we've got."

"Oh! Are you now?" It was his turn to laugh. "I wasn't aware there was a competition."

"There isn't. I just blew it out of the water," she teased with a wink. " Goodbye, Jack, I won't be long." With a quick hug, she kissed him on the cheek and was away before the winter sprite had realised what happened. He could feel the kiss linger on his skin and raised his hand to touch his cheek absentmindedly.

"Wow," he whispered to himself.

Tooth already had an idea about where the unassuming new Guardian could be and prepared herself for the journey. The Spirit of Love (as she was sometimes known) had been an acquaintance of Tooth's for one or two centuries and she knew that she would most likely find her in Paris. Was it an obvious choice? Yes, but that was where the predictability surrounding this girl most definitely ended. Now, as a fairy she was a very fast flyer, and could have possibly made it to her destination in under an hour, but time was of the essence and Valentina needed to be located as quickly as possible. So she had another plan, a method of transportation that, in fact, she rarely got to use, seeing as she spent most of her time at the palace and flying was fast enough to go anywhere else. It was a teleportation of sorts where she could evaporate from one side of the world and be on the other in seconds. In her early days when she was a regular in the field it had been her default way of getting around. But that was a very long time ago.

"Ok," she coached herself, "let's see if I've still got it." After a moment of pure concentration her form was consumed by light particles, and the Tooth Fairy disappeared.

* * *

Tooth's estimation had been slightly off. Instead of materialising in a quiet laneway of Paris, she found herself in the middle of the chaotic roundabout encircling the Arc de Triomphe.

"Oh no!" she whispered beneath the din of the traffic. All around her tourists bustled attempting to take photos of themselves without getting others in them. It would have been comical if she hadn't been completely exposed to the mortal eyes of the children who happened to be in the vicinity. In the presence of only adults she most likely would have remained invisible, but there was indeed a catch to being believed in.

"Mum, Mummy, look! There's a bird lady!" Tooth whipped around to find the child that had spotted her.

"Fairy" she muttered under her breath. He was, thankfully, being dragged in the opposite direction by unrelenting parents. Through gritted teeth she smiled and gave a small wave as he disappeared behind a contiki tour group. Suddenly she felt herself being yanked into the air by something that had a vice grip her arm which caused her to scream in fright.

"What in the hell were you doing out there?" A voice from above her yelled. Tooth looked up to see a young woman in a blur of reds and pinks holding on to her upper arm with surprising strength.

"Val, thank goodness I found you!" She realised with relief.

"More like I found you. What gives? You could have been seen." Valentina scolded.

"I was. It doesn't matter. It's a long story. Would you mind putting me down so I can explain?" Tooth pleaded as the wind buffeted her face and strained her wings.

"Ok, hold on." Valentina steered them east following the Seine River until they reached the Notre Dame Cathedral in all its grandeur and landed unceremoniously among the gargoyles with its two bell towers rising above them either side. With both her arms finally free, Tooth brushed down any wayward feathers that had been disturbed in their whirl-wind flight until she gleamed in every shade of green and blue.

"So now that you've primped and preened, do you want to tell me what that was? Valentina demanded. There was a harshness to her voice, but Tooth could sense that beneath it was concern. "More to the point, what are you doing here?"

"I'm getting there," she reassured her as she brushed back her feathered crown, "Phew. Ok. Well you see, I just attempted evaporative materialisation but I was a tiny bit off cause it's been a while since I've had to use it and my estimation and visualisation threw me out and that's how I ended up in that crowd and-"

"Breathe."

"-It was all to look for you. Wait," Tooth was confused, "why did you come and get me, you could have been spotted too?"

"Ha! That's a good one. No one actually believes in me, Tooth. I'm just a Hallmark card catchphrase to most people, so there's zero chance of me becoming visible to anyone," she said with a hint of bitterness. "You help people find the one thing they want more in the entire world and they never know. It's the definition of a thankless job. Besides, we girls have to stick together. But rewind for a second, you're looking for me?"

"Yes I am." She was suddenly aware of how to convince Valentina to go with her. "What if I told you it's all about to change? All this ingratitude and invisibility. What if there was a way you could be believed in?" Tooth suggested eagerly. "I've come from the Pole actually, direct orders from North."

"North?" Valentina's eyes narrowed, "what does he want?"

"Well its not exactly North. It's MIM."

"The Man in the Moon?"

"Yes, he's the one who wants you. Or rather, who _chose_ you," Tooth corrected herself. "Val, about two hours ago he chose a new Guardian and it was you. So now I'm here to bring you back with me for your first official briefing." Valentina stared for a moment trying to comprehend what the fairy had revealed before realising the hilarity of it all.

"You've got to be kidding me," she laughed almost hysterically, "I'm not Guardian material, look at me." She held her arms out in defeat, allowing Tooth to give her a once over and agree. But she simply rolled her eyes.

"It has nothing to do with how you look. What matters is what's at the heart of what you do.

"I deal with sad saps working though unrequited love."

"You and I both know that's not just it."

"I haven't had a close encounter with a kid for two centuries."

"Neither had I till 6 years ago."

"I have weapons."

"So do the rest of us!" Tooth's voice had gradually been getting louder as she grew more frustrated.

"Well obviously I'm fully qualified then." Valentina observed in her deadpan humour.

"None of us were when we started, I promise. But, like it or not, Val, you are a Guardian of Childhood. All that matters is how you bring joy and happiness to the children of the world. I understand that you're shocked and confused, we all are. There is something out there that we have to prepare ourselves to face, no matter what it takes. And, admittedly, right now I can't see the direct correlation between your specialties and what we do either, but I can assure you that if MIM chose you above all others to join us then you're the person we desperately need right now." Tooth was slightly breathless from her impassioned speech and Valentina gave her a searching look. After some internal deliberation she conceded.

"Ok, ok, I hear you." She exhaled forcefully, "whatever's going on must be pretty messed up for you to get _me_ involved. So, just what are we up against here?"

Tooth's face brightened and her wings beat faster lifting her into the air.

"I am so glad you asked," she said grinning. She pulled the satchel from around her, retrieved the snow globe and, with a determined smile at Valentina, raised her arm to throw glass sphere.

"I say… North Pole."


	3. What can I do?

**A/N:** Happy New Year! I don't know about the rest of you, but my 2017 is looking far better than the previous year (which I refuse to believe ever existed honestly), so I hope everyone is feeling fabulous.

 **Reviews:**

To **Crossover Junkie** and **AngelaLove072101** : I'm so glad you've taken nicely to Valentina, she a tricky one alright. So much inner turmoil, which we'll see a bit more of shortly. Now to **Crossover Junkie** specifically: I too have seen very few Pitch redemption fics, but fear not! I'm trying to fix that. And I was aware of Pitch's past in the original books.

* * *

Deep below the surface an underground labyrinth twisted and turned in a maddening expanse. An all consuming darkness pressed against the tight passages and the shrieks of Night-Mares resounded eerily off the cold stone. At the centre of it all remained Pitch Black. Worn away to almost nothing, his sanity was held together by the thought that perhaps, just maybe, he would make it out this hell hole, if only he didn't let his fear consume him. He was motionless, knees brought up to the chest, making himself as small as possible, hiding in the shadowy corner of what he'd once considered to be his home. Disused cages and chains dangled precariously from the celling, creaking at the slightest disturbance. From where he cowered he could see the globe, crumbling and rusted from the damp air, and yet, it's lights glowed brighter than ever. Each was a crushing blow to his blackened heart and a constant reminder of failure. His failure. It was poetic irony that he should be undone by his own monstrous creations. How did he not see it coming? He had been blinded by confidence and an underlying desperation. And now he was their master no longer.

The Night-Mares were relentless; they drew their energy from fear and they could sense he had more than enough to spare. They ran rampant through the tunnels and passages hunting him down to whichever new alcove he could barely scramble to. Then they would feed. Pitch felt as though his very soul was being drained from his body - what was left of it at least. When their hunger was sated he was discarded, only to be tracked once again in a cruel game of cat and mouse.

He was constantly covered in nightmare sand. Being too weak to draw it away, it was perpetually stuck to his robes, buried in his hair, and scratching at him from under his clothes, completely in escapable. By the nature of its design it only added to the potency of his terror.

Worse still was the extraction of fear, a process so gruelling that the cold, debilitating emptiness that resulted was ever present and self sustaining in a vicious cycle. In a world that was as dark as the blackest tar, all else that could manifest was self loathing and a seething hatred for the ones who had put him there - and he found the Night-Mares had developed a taste for it. He could see that hatred made them stronger, rilled them up even more than the simple promise of fear. Chaos of the heart, corrupted or otherwise, proved to be a powerful thing.

Weak, cowardly and pitiful: That was who Pitch Black was now. The boogeyman feared by no one and despised by everyone at once. That was the nightmare to which there was no end. He had tried, oh how wretchedly he'd tried, to be believed in. But destiny refused to work in his favour.

As the despair of his predicament weighed down upon him, Pitch wished in that moment to conjure up a single, comforting memory. And although he sifted through centuries of thoughts in the recesses of his mind, he found nothing. A choked sob escaped his lips that he was only mildly aware of. It was only when he heard the rumbling snort of a Night-Mare advancing on his location that he knew what he'd done. His chest tightened in fear as a pair of yellow eyes stalked him from the darkest shadows.

They had found him.

* * *

North's workshop was overwhelmingly busy in preparation for Christmas and while the yetis worked very efficiently, they took up a decent amount of personal space. It didn't help that the elves wouldn't stay within their designated "workstation", causing a tripping hazard for anyone taller than 4ft. Jack and Bunny were watching the chaos from the globe room above when behind them a portal was opened and Tooth appeared with a slightly frazzled Valentina in tow.

"I'm going to have to get used to that." Valentina noted as her eyes adjusted to the warm lighting.

"There was the other way, but I'm sure you don't want me to try that in tandem just yet," replied Tooth, however her companion was distracted.

"Wow… look at this place." In her enthralment, Valentina drifted into the air, floating among the other worldly gadgets and contraptions that flew up from the workshop on the ground level. A brightly coloured glowing object, something resembling an upside down flower, opened and closed its petals, bobbing its way leisurely towards her like a jellyfish. She reached out to touch it and it shot away. She laughed in pure delight, having never seen anything quite like it.

"Ah, you are enjoying my little wonders, yes?" North's booming voice called up to her. He had departed the lift with a magisterial air and Sandy came following closely behind. She became focused once more and descended to where they were standing on the dark floorboards.

"It's incredible. I've only ever heard rumours about this place," she admitted. Bunny and Jack came to join the group in welcoming their newest member.

"Yeah, sadly the whole thing about the yetis being angrier than cut snake is a fair dinkum furphy," Bunny quipped.

"But don't tell them that," Jack hinted through a grin. "They think they've got a reputation to keep."

Here North quickly decided to interrupt. "Enough with your chatter, we have formalities to settle," he commanded. "Valentina," he began.

"'Val' will be just fine," she interjected.

"Okay then, Val, allow me to introduce your fellow guardians. You have met Tooth, of course." Tooth gave a small wave.

"Of course," she agreed.

"Next we have Bunny…"

"G'day."

"…Jack…"

"Hey."

"… and Sandy." The sandman bounded over to Valentina and gave her a vigorous handshake. "He's very friendly. And," he gestured to himself, "you may call me North."

Valentina felt all eyes on her, seeming to be in anticipation of something. "Oh, right, uh you probably already know me as Valentina Cupidonia . But call me Val," she implored. They all responded with various confirmations that they'd taken her request into consideration, but there followed a brief uncomfortable silence as no one quite knew what to say next.

"I know what you're all thinking, by the way," she continued awkwardly in an attempt to beat them at their own judgements, "just how did we end up with a couples councillor as a guardian?" The question was dramatised as she spoke. "It seems completely absurd because it is."

"Aw crikey, she a mind reader too," Bunny lamented.

"Actually I'm not," she corrected, "you're all rather transparent I'm afraid. I saw it on your faces the minute I arrived."

"Perhaps," North interjected, "but that does not mean you cannot be great guardian. You just have to find your centre. It took Jack a long time to figure out his." Jack looked at the big man incredulously. "But it can be done. And it will. We will all help."

"But… I just don't understand," she huffed. "Why now? I have existed for two hundred and fifty years completely independent and that seemed suit everyone just fine. But _now_ everything changes? And what about what I've been doing up until now?" Valentina grew more agitated by the second. "I know what my centre is. I help people find their soulmates, I assist them in learning how to love, not just each other but themselves. Even more importantly," her tone became gravely serious, "it's my job to save them from the relationships that go wrong. You have no idea the horrors that some human beings are capable of. It's enough to make even the most optimistic person believe that love couldn't possibly exist. That's why once a year, I get to renew that hope, that goodness still lies in people's hearts. Valentine's day is not just some cheesy celebration for spouses or starry-eyed crushes and it is certainly not for florists and card companies to boost their commissions for the year, although they shamelessly take advantage of it," she spat. "It's for those lovers, families and friends to remember what they see to be special in each other, to be reminded that no one ever has to face the world alone and that above all, love is _real_. Because if they don't believe love exists, all that prevails is hatred, greed and ill-will."

Valentina's sharp words hung in the air and left the Guardians stunned, not for the first time since she'd been chosen. It had been so long since she'd confronted the burning passion behind why she did what she did that the resulting flood of emotions and words seemed to spill out of her before she could put them through a filter. And for once, in almost a century, she was reminded that while her job was to make the world seem a less lonely place, she had been isolated by an existence that saw her family and friends consumed by the years that she outlived them. For once she recognised just how it had bittered her.

North grabbed Valentina's shoulders to steady her, and met her eyes in the hope that she would understand him completely.

"Valentina, excuse me, Val. What you have done so far is wonderful. You have been bringing joy, not only to children, but to adults as well. And often they are the ones who need it most. You mentioned saving people from danger, yes? What we do is similar. There are children too who are abused, neglected, so many horrible things. It is our duty to protect their innocence, to show them wonder and happiness, to let them live a life free of fear. If what you say is true, perhaps you will be more useful here than you know. We are not asking you to abandon the work you do already because we understand how important it is. However as Guardian now you are called to other tasks. Things only you can put out into the world. This is why Manny chose you, Val. So you must ask yourself; what can I do?"

Valentina was silent for several seconds trying come up with something, anything, that would give North the answer he was seeking, and found… nothing. Her mind was blank, all systems had shutdown. _"What can I do?"_ The question rang in her ears begging to be answered but Valentina could not. It was so simple and yet in the moment it unanswerable.

"I… I have to go." She stuttered and without another word immediately bolted away around the mezzanine, past the globe and picked an open door at random to hide behind in an attempt to get away from prying eyes. Behind her, Bunny was counting on one paw.

"So that's… two of my theories answered." He held it up as if this was supposed to be important information.

Meanwhile the pressure that had been slowly building had finally overwhelmed the newly appointed Guardian of Love. Backed up against the door, she clicked it shut and slid down to the ground trying to take deep and steady breaths.

"Crap," she whispered to herself. Valentina's state of panic frustrated her a great deal. Her usually confident facade was apparently absent for the time being. Why? In her lengthy existence as the Spirit of Love and all it encompassed she had barely any reason to understand, let alone interact with children. If there was one thing about them she could count on, it was that the general majority of them believed goodness would prevail. The hatred that she was so often called to mediate in adults nary existed among them, it was one of the few things that gave her hope. And now they were relying on her.

A gentle rap on the frosted glass just above her head was followed by quiet voice.

"Val? Valentina are you in there?" It was Tooth. The fairy seemed to have a knack for tracking her down.

"Yes.. I'm here," she replied with a hint of defeatism.

Tooth attempted to open the door but found it jammed. "Can I come in?" she called through the ornately carved oak.

"Oh, right. Of course." Valentina moved to open it and found a concerned Tooth Fairy on the other side.

"What did you do to the-"

"I was sitting in front of it."

"Ah, I see." Tooth flew in, but the room was smaller than she anticipated and she accidentally knocked down some miscellaneous toys that evidently never made it past prototype. It was a sizeable storage space, but so heavily cluttered with junk that she found it more practical to stand. "So.. that could have gone better," she suggested carefully.

"I feel like a fraud," Valentina said flatly, "and they all know it."

"You haven't even given yourself a chance! Val, how could you know what sort of Guardian you'll be if you don't try. I know you can do amazing things already, they just have to be applied to a slightly different scenario, that's all."

"I am going to have kids depending on my good judgement for their best interests. How does that not get the better of you? Aren't you terrified of making mistakes?" she queried.

Tooth was unsure of how to answer this and gave it some thought. "To tell you the truth, it's very hard not to let it," she admitted, "there are times when I wonder if I've actually done the right thing. But you learn to deal with it because ultimately it means you care. We have all made mistakes, myself included. But there are very few things in this world that are truly unforgivable and as long as you know you have done the best you possibly could under the circumstances, you have to be able to forgive yourself."

Valentina nodded in understanding. Despite what her insecurities told her, according to the Man in the Moon she was every part the Guardian they were. However, there was one thing still bothering her.

"You said it yourself though, Tooth. Even you don't really know why he chose me. No correlation, remember?"

"You're right, I don't know why. But I do know we're going to find out," she promised wholeheartedly, and being somewhat convinced that perhaps she really could take her place among them, Valentina hugged the fairy out of gratitude.

"So?" Tooth tested, "are you ready to get back out there?"

"Yeah, I'm ready," she decided with a definitive gaze toward the door and smoothed back her chestnut hair.

"Good, because it's time we told you about Pitch Black."

* * *

The Guardians were gathered once again on the Pole's upper mezzanine under the globe, which was growing dimmer at a concerning rate. This time though, they occupied the cozy alcove opposite North's control station, complete with a rug and crackling fire place. Unfortunately, these small comforts did nothing to detract from the threatening nature of Pitch's return. A general briefing was underway to establish the extent of what they knew. Unsurprisingly, Valentina was indeed familiar with the works of the dastardly Nightmare King so it didn't take long for her to catch up.

"Essentially, this bloke is the reason why we're all here," Bunny summarised for her as he examined one of his boomerangs, "we were made Guardians during the Dark Ages to combat anything Pitch tried to throw at us or the humans. It was the height of his infamy, scared people half to death. Chaos and terror, it was all fun and games to him. So we retaliated with hope, dreams, wonder and memories, people became less afraid and eventually stopped believing in him all together. He might might still think he's a King, but his reign ended then and there. He tried to make a comeback recently and from what we can tell, it was similar to this," he gestured to the globe behind him. "But, he failed thanks to us and, dare I say it, Jack Frost, who was our newest recruit. Anyway, you've probably gathered the guy's not exactly playing with a full deck of cards." He indicated with the weapon in a circular motion by the side of his head to demonstrate lunacy.

"I know that much," Valentina agreed, "I've seen what his brand of fear can do and believe me, it's caused no end of trouble for me as well."

A thought barged its way to the forefront of her consciousness that caused her to visibly tense. The implications of which were something that she wanted nothing more than to ignore, but her sensibility told her to speak up. "Do you think, given that Jack and I were chosen so close together, Manny might be preparing for a new Dark Age?"

If the others hadn't been paying attention they were now. Concerned glances were exchanged among the group.

"There is a chance," North confirmed grimly, "I did not want to say for causing panic, but I have had suspicions." He patted the side of his belly, indicative of his gut-feeling.

"North, you should have told us." Tooth said with a note of disappointment. Something had caught Valentina's eye about the fairy. And about the winter spirit. In a way that made sense to her greatest instincts, she saw the way they moved to be closer to each other, as though pulled by a magnetic force. She saw the way he positioned himself upon hearing the news, as though subtlety trying to guard her. And she saw the way her hand brushed against his while the other was clenched. She saw and understood immediately.

"So what's plan, North? Are we gonna storm fort? Flush him out?" Jack suggested with a hardened expression and heightened determination while Sandy formed a bat in one hand and slapped it threateningly in the other in agreement.

"I have been thinking for whole day, and I have it." North alluded. "BRING IT IN!" he thundered to his elves. In a disorganised scramble with belled hats jingling, they wheeled a large, battered chalkboard on to the floor and positioned it in front of his audience.

"Ta daa!" He presented with a newfound excitement, and gestured to the board, obviously proud of his own work.

"An ambush?" Jack read skeptically. The word had been written in block letters with several diagrams surrounding it. It was detailed to the point where arrows and symbols became a muddled wreck, but the idea seemed to be that they would lure Pitch out into the open and confront him where he couldn't melt into the shadows.

"Yes! We go to Pitch, assemble at opening, get him out side on to frozen lake and take him down once and for all," he explained zealously, but his tone became sobered as he added, "he must be stripped of power, it is only way."

Tooth looked aghast, "can we even do that?" she asked. North nodded.

"Incarceration. I have asked to have cell built under workshop. We separate him from from Night-Mares and keep him locked in well lit room until we decide what to do next."

"Sounds reasonable, although I would have buried him in under the ice myself," Bunny quipped.

"What about execution?" Jack raised and was met with horrified gasps before he clarified, "I _mean_ , how do you deceive the most manipulative of all liars. Come on, that is so dark..." As if by magic, a pointer had appeared in North's hand and he indicated to the board as he spoke.

"This is where plan gets tricky, Jack, you will be waiting above cliffs surrounding lake with Tooth. You will have good view but wont be seen." They glanced at each other. Tooth gave a nervous smile and Jack returned the sentiment with a small, reassuring nod.

"Bunny and myself will be flanking entrance," he continued, "we funnel him toward lake. Sandy will be in the skies to fight off any attacks."

The little man clenched his fists in anticipation as he recalled what happened the last time he'd tried to face Pitch.

"When Pitch is forced out on to lake, we must do everything in our power not to let him escape. That means offence, not defence. He must be distracted to stop him from slipping away. Then when he is at disadvantage, Tooth and jack will open portal to push him though to holding cell."

Valentina, increasingly anxious to know what her part was in this plan (if there was a part for her at all), decided to get the de-facto leader's attention.

"And what should I do?" she asked tentatively. North turned to address her specifically. She noticed his brow had furrowed in... apprehension?

"Ah yes, you will be important to quote-unquote "execution." He hesitated before revealing the primary instalment of his scheme. "We will need you to get his attention," he said simply. "That means no offence, he must be able to let guard down, if only for second."

"You want me to act as the bait," she realised dubiously, not really affronted, but certainly confused as to how she would actually achieve this.

"Not bait," the Russian corrected hastily, "Pitch has never met you in person before, no?"

"No. As far as I'm aware we barely have mutual acquaintances."

"Therefore, he is not likely to be knowing much about you, and certainly not that you are Guardian. He will be suspicious of you, yes, but if you stand alone he will not make connection until we are on top of him," North justified.

It made sense after all, the logic was there. But Valentina couldn't deny that to face up to Pitch with no prior experience was being brutally thrown in the deep end. "So how do I get his attention then, stick a neon sign to my forehead?"

"You only need to call him. He will hear you and hopefully curiosity will get better of him. Are you nervous?" He raised a bushy eyebrow.

"Uh, a little," she confessed.

"Excellent," he exclaimed, "he can sense fear of others." He clapped her on the shoulder in approval as he moved to collect his large fur-lined coat that was hanging on the hook of a nearby pillar.

"Great… I feel so much better," she replied with feigned enthusiasm. "Do you guys really this I can do this?

"Of course," Tooth encouraged, "you're a Guardian aren't you? You're one of us!"

"Actually Tooth," Jack moved and twirled his staff lazily with a smirk, "she's not quite."

Valentina felt a pang of inadequacy at his words.

"Aye," North realised with a start and Sandy shook his head in haughty derision.

"Wondered how long it would take you lot," the Pooka snickered.

"Bunny!" Tooth exclaimed incredulously.

"What?" he shrugged, "I was going to tell you."

"What did we forget?" demanded Valentina.

North strode over to the shelves stacked with volumes of leather bound books and pulled a large, beautifully decorated one from the middle.

"The Oath! Val, you must take Oath of Guardians," he commanded exuberantly. "I forgot! How could I forget? MUSIC!"

Out of nowhere a parade of yetis and elves flooded the space. Trumpets blared and fiery batons brandished by an over-confident Phil came dangerously close to singeing Valentina's eyebrows off. Above the commotion a highly amused Jack could be heard cackling.

"Not this again, are you serious? North, the theatrics, please, it's too much!" he cried. Tooth shot to his side and elbowed him in the ribs. But the damage had been done. The music dwindled pathetically and the helpers of the North Pole shifted awkwardly. Valentina, who was slightly shocked by the sudden fanfare, looked over to see North rather crestfallen. She could hear Tooth scolding Jack and it occurred to her that not only had this interruption happened before, but this ceremony, in all its ridiculous extravagance, actually meant something special to the normally jolly spirit who's eyes were now cast down after being dismissed one time too many. At this epiphany, her confidence finally kicked in. Self-esteem was something she knew how to fix.

"It's ok, really. I kind of like it. It feels like a real welcome," she smiled encouragingly.

North's face brightened instantly in the hope that there would finally be a ceremony in full after several centuries.

"Really? You like it?"

"Who am I to get in the way of tradition?" she laughed with great abandon.

With her approval, North wasted no time in signalling the band. "From the top!" he called, waving his arms in animated conductions.

With a tremendous, re-energised peal of brass, they processed around her in cleanly rehearsed choreography which she had to stifle a laugh at, because really, it was too much. Once the instrumentalists reached the climax of the piece, North began reading from the book.

"Will you, Valentina Cupidonia, vow to watch over the children of the world. To guard them with your life, their hopes, their wishes, their dreams. For they are all that we have, all that we are, and all that we will ever be."

There was a catch in Valentina's breath as she looked around at the smiling faces of the spirits that she was now willingly joining, and answered with words that she truly believed in: "I will."

North's smile spread into a proud grin. "Then congratulations, Valentina, for you are now and forevermore a Guardian!"

There was a resounding cheer from the small crowd of onlookers with numerous hugs from her peers. She even received an amicable handshake from the aloof Pooka himself.

"I know were some doubts back there, particularly from me," Bunny admitted sheepishly, "Sorry, about that. Pessimism is a hard habit to break."

"Says the bringer of hope to children everywhere," laughed Valentina.

"Funny how things work out, eh?" he chuckled, "But you'll do us proud, we're all backing you. Just don't get in the way of yourself, you'll be right."

"I'm going to do everything in my power," she promised him, and something occurred to her. "Quick question, earlier I heard you say I proved two theories of yours; what were they?"

"Ah, you heard that," his face fell. "Well, the first was an unfortunate snap judgement. I wasn't sure you were the right sheila for the job and when you ran away-"

"It looked pretty bad, right?" she grimaced.

"Eh, a bit," he shrugged, "but then I realised that your issues were with your self belief, not how competent you were."

"Oh?" she raised an eyebrow challengingly.

"Yeah, your lack of trust in yourself is holding you back," he explained. "Self esteem, that's gonna make or break you."

"You're telling me," she laughed dryly. "And the other one?"

"That one," he said with a smirk, "was that I couldn't have been the only one here with a bloody good sense of irony.'


	4. Wrong Choice

**A/N:** Long a/n so bear with me...

 **Slang** : I am literally the worst, I know I said I would do this and last update was a doozy.

Chapter 3: 

Furphy = a rumour or myth

Angrier than a cut snake = pretty bloody angry

Fair Dinkum = true/absolute

G'day = (I know you all know this one)

Crikey = an exclamation that can be used in almost any situation

Bloke = in reference to a man

Not playing with a full deck of cards = crazy

Sheila = in reference to a woman

Chapter 4

Tradie = a workman of a trade, commonly construction workers, plumbers, electricians etc

Ute = Utility vehicle/pick up truck. Used by aforementioned tradesmen.

 **To my reviewers:** You all made my day, thank you.

 **Crossover Junkie:** Man I wish you had an account so I could pick your brain. I love Bunny's character too, its very fun to write for, but I had no I idea about the kirk/spock thing (I've never seen the show) but from what I know that does make sense. And thank you for that other insight, it compliments my idea well, so thats a relief. But you're right, terribly tragic.

 **Cody Hanna:** See above (I'm sorry for that), yours in eternity, PaperGirl ;)

 **Guest:** That's so sweet, thank you!

 **James Wolfe:** You're right, I'm just getting started *cue evil laugh*. But yeah, plz don't throw me to the Night-Mares, I can think of nothing worse. Plus I wouldn't be able to finish this story which is turning out to be a lot longer than I thought it would (wayyy longer than 5 chapters). We're gonna be here a while mate, get comfy.

And a big shout out to **AngelaLove072101, WinterCrystal1009** and **Metaljinx.**

* * *

The Pole had always been, at some level, chaotic. But this time, when the Guardians were preparing once again to face their mortal enemy, the frantic preparatory bustle was tinged with unease.

"I am not liking this, Bunny," North confided quietly to the Pooka as the others of their team were ensuring all loose ends were in order, "there is something… off."

Bunny rolled his eyes at the mountain man who had a tendency for dramatics at the best of times. "Ya reckon that might have something to do with, I dunno, the fact we have to go find this lunatic again?" He suggested to point out the obvious, "I mean maybe, I'm just taking wild guess."

"Is not just that," came his gruff reply, "something is wrong. I feel it. In my-"

"In your belly, I get it. Geez, would you just relax? This plan is solid. There's nothing he's got up his grimy sleeve that we haven't seen already." Of course, Bunny had no real way know knowing that for sure. Six years may not be long by a spirit's standards, but it was more than enough time to develop something new. After all, the corrupted dreamsand hadn't just appeared out of nowhere. But he decided to save face and reassure North. "We've beaten him before, we'll do it again," he continued, "I mean if you look at our history, Pitch is always put in his place by either us or his own plans, which is actually kinda funny if you think about it." Bunny forced a laugh in an attempt to get the Russian to lighten up.

"I am not convinced. We must be prepared for anything. Have your booms ready," he warned.

"When do I not?" he asked in bewilderment, "and they're called boomerangs, mate."

North's resonant voice filled the room to get the attention of the other Guardians. "Make sure you have all necessary weapons, even ones you're not thinking to use. Magic is strong, yes, but brute force can be just as useful." He addressed Valentina specifically now. "Do you have something? To protect yourself with?"

"I have a quiver of arrows and a bow," she confirmed. North could see nothing, but at that moment two objects materialised in her hands. "I usually use them for my work, but if I remove the L'Amour they'd pack a pretty mean punch."

"L'Amour?" he repeated.

"It's my own formula containing endorphins, oxytocin, dopamine, all the strong stuff. I guess you could call it a love potion, but really I use for almost everything; romance, platonic love, resolving arguments, in the appropriate amount, of course. And because I coat my arrows in it I just aim one of these and bam!" she laughed, "they usually disintegrate on impact," she explained.

"Ah, I see!"

"But anyway," she realised she'd gone off track, " the arrows themselves will do just fine."

"Very good to be hearing," he approved. "Jack, Tooth, you have snow globes ready?" he called to the two.

"They're in here," Tooth held up the satchel from earlier.

"And I've got a back up with me just in case," Jack added.

"Good work. Sandy?" He appeared by North's side almost immediately. "You know what to do?" The Sandman nodded, but held up a finger to hold his attention a moment longer, and demonstrated zaps of dreamsand that were more reminiscent of lighting bolts. "That's new," he observed, rather impressed with Sandy's latest trick. The little man nodded and folded his arms over his chest smugly. Pitch wouldn't know what hit him.

"Time to move, everyone," North summoned, having assessed that everything was prepared to ensure their success. They quickly made their way down to the loading dock below the workshop where their chariot awaited. When they arrived, elves and yetis were fussing over eight impatient reindeer, feeding them, attaching reigns and replacing shoes.

"Crikey not this again!" Bunny exclaimed in dismay, and Jack laughed at the look of terror on his face.

"How did you think we were getting there, Cottontail?" he asked mockingly as he accidentally whacked an unsuspecting elf into frozen paralysis with his staff, "whoops…"

"I didn't think about it. I'm telling you, I'd rather hitchhike with a drunk tradie in the back of his ute than go in that thing again," he protested.

"Now where is fun in that?" North called over his shoulder.

"It'd be on the ground for starters." Bunny was interrupted by a ground shaking rumble. The heavy wooden gates to North's holding shed opened, revealing the legendary, majestic sleigh in all its beautifully varnished, high-powered glory.

Valentina stared at it, slack jawed in disbelief. " _That's_ the sleigh? Wow."

"Everyone loves the sleigh," agreed North, with a self-satisfied look at Bunny, who scowled directly back as he threw his pack in.

Within minutes they were in the air. For Valentina, there was a great deal of novelty about riding in the sleigh. She was an experienced levitationist (or flyer), but this really took the cake. With North at the reigns and everyone else sitting more or less comfortably at its rear, they used a snow globe portal to fast-track their journey to the place where their troubles seemed to begin and end.

"Why is it always Burgess?" Bunny complained through chattering teeth. The town was blanketed in snow that glistened dimly in the amber street light and it wasn't long before they realised the wind had an unfriendly bite to it. "Oi, Snowflake," he called to the winter spirit as a particularly strong gust ran chills through them, "make it stop would you?"

But Jack simply shrugged. "Nothing I can do about it, unless you want it even colder," he suggested with a sly grin, "I would be happy to-"

"Don't even think about it."

"The wind will listen to me, but if it's cold, then it's cold. Deal with it," he smirked. "Wind? Take it easy, would you?" The gale died down within seconds of Jack Frost's command. "A thank you might be nice every now and then," he bantered, "such manners would have people thinking you were raised in a barn... oh wait!"

The Pooka was looking positively murderous by this stage.

"We are having shush now," North adjudicated as they descended onto a dark side street. With a rough crash the sleigh touched down on the icy road. The Guardians quietly disembarked and North lead his faithful reindeer to an alleyway where they would be out of sight on the off chance that they might alert Pitch to their presence.

It was a tense walk through the park to the boundary of the forest. Though her expression was fixed with determination, Valentina wrung her hands the entire way there.

 _You'll be 'right. You'll be 'right. You'll be 'right._

She repeated Bunny's words like a mantra in her head over and over. She wasn't afraid, not of Pitch at least. She could take him on. Probably. More than anything she was anxious to get this right. Years of working alone may have been isolating, but it was convenient. There was no one to disappoint when she slipped up or made a questionable decision. Now there was a new set of unspoken rules to abide by. Perhaps there was no "i" in "team", but there was a "Val" in this one and acting selfishly was officially off the table. And she wanted, no, _needed_ to prove herself to them. Besides, all she had to do was talk. To the most deplorable spirit to walk among them, but it was just talking. Just keeping him preoccupied.

 _You'll be 'right._

They reached the edge of the park, marked by a rusted, waist high, chainlink fence and prepared to go their separate ways.

"Everybody remembers plan, yes?" North whispered to them. There was a murmur in agreement.

"Valentina, you go old entrance as close as you can, Bunny and I will keep track of you, try to stay in line of vision," he gestured with two fingers to his eyes and then hers. "Sandy, stay above tree line, make sure Pitch cannot see you, is dead giveaway. Wait for us to move, then go. Jack, Tooth, you will go to highest cliff on eastern side of lake and wait there for Sandy's signal. Then fly down and-" somewhere to the left of them a twig snapped. He paused to listen for a few moments. Out of the corner of her eye, Valentina thought she saw a flicker of yellow.

"…corner him," he finished cautiously. The Guardians were on high alert for whatever was lurking in the shadows, but it became evident that they were alone once more. Wanting to move as quickly as possible, lest their cover be blown, North beckoned that Sandy, Bunny and Valentina follow him. With a quick wave from each of them, they disappeared into the thicket leaving Tooth and Jack alone to make their way over to the predetermined camp. Initially they flew in silence, made tense in anticipation of what they had been assigned to do. Eventually though, out of wanting to make the most of his time with the Tooth Fairy, Jack decided to speak.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

Her face was contorted in a slight frown. "I'm okay I guess, I just don't like not knowing what's going on," Tooth confessed, "and the entire prospect of a new dark age isn't exactly comforting," she smiled sadly at him.

"Yeah, there's… there's that," he sighed.

"I remember what it was like before," she continued, "people were scared at every waking moment, but nighttime was worst of all, it drove them to do terrible things."

"No kidding?"

"I wish I was. That's what fear does, Jack, it takes control of you. And some people aren't always strong enough to fight it. I couldn't stand to think that children of this age might have to live through something like it," she grimaced.

Jack felt an empathetic sadness as she spoke and wanted nothing more than to make it all better again. He took her hand and squeezed it comfortingly. Tooth noticed how her heart raced at his touch, how he, without even meaning to, seemed to chase her dread away.

"They won't have to," he promised her, "not if we have anything to do about it." A high pitched squeak that seemingly came from nowhere startled both of them. Glancing at each other quickly in concern, they raced down to the cliffs that had finally come into view.

"What was that?" Tooth whispered. They heard it again. Her eyes narrowed as they located the source. "It's coming from your pocket," she pointed to his jumper.

"What the.." with confusion etched on his face, Jack reached in and fished around, retrieving a slightly disoriented little fairy. "Baby Tooth!" he exclaimed in relief.

"How did you get here?" Tooth demanded rather than asked her helper. "You should be back at the palace."

"Tooth, she's fine," he laughed as the fairy hugged his nose and took up residence on his shoulder, "sometimes she likes to hang around with me." His face became serious as he turned his head to address Baby Tooth. "I thought I told you to stay put," he scolded. She shrugged and emitted a series of twitters that could only be described as nervous laughter and perhaps an apology. "Ok fine, but you stay in the pocket, got it?" he compromised. She nodded happily and zoomed back into the hiding place she had originally stowed away in.

"The only reason I'm letting this happen is because I know you'll take care of each other," she warned.

"Of course we do, Baby Tooth loves me, and I definitely have a soft spot for her," he said confidently as he leant up against his staff.

Her stern expression faltered. "Oh trust me, I know." she giggled nervously. After all, Baby Tooth was a part of her.

Almost a mile away, Sandy, Bunny and North were in position, and Valentina was ready to finally admit that what she was feeling was indeed something akin to fear with Pitch to blame. In a plan where she was placing herself in the most vulnerable position of any of them, he was he biggest unknown variable.

"Do you see that dark patch, the pile of rubble? You must go as close as you dare," North had told her. She was now walking towards it while Bunny and North hid among the thicker trees with fingers crossed and breath baited. She didn't know exactly where Sandy was, but the knowledge of him being close by was a slight comfort. Carefully picking her way there, she was almost on top of the remains of the destroyed entrance. Rotted wood was scattered, half buried among the dark earth. She took one final glance around. The air was different here, denser, colder. She wondered if perhaps… No. Enough stalling. No more doubting. Now was as good a time as ever to summon the Nightmare King.

"Pitch Black!"

Although Valentina's voice cracked slightly, the call seemed to have had some effect. Around her the shadows began to shift restlessly, as though being woken from a deep slumber.

"Pitch Black," she repeated stronger than before. "I know you're there." There was a certain reluctance she could sense, deliberating whether to listen or pay no mind to her. She just wanted this over with.

"I know you're there…" she repeated, and hesitated for a moment. It was an ill-conceived idea, but she knew it would be a guaranteed way to grab his attention. She took a deep breath. "…because I believe in you."

* * *

In darkness she called to him. It was murky at first, as though the sound was trying to reach him through water, bending and distorting as it met his ear. But it was enough. Despite his debilitating state somehow, against all odds, something stirred in Pitch Black's chest. Strength found him next, enough for him to sit up and remember where and who he was. He cradled his head as it rushed from the exertion while he lent against the unforgiving stone and as he did so, became aware of the fear that was no longer just his own. There wasn't much of it, no. It was faint, merely a niggling voice in the back of the head. But it would do. He was staggering to his feet, gripping the wall for support, when he heard it again. Louder this time, the undoubtedly female voice echoed softly around him. " _Pitch Black… black… black…"_ there was a nervous inflection to his name and he drank it in after being starved for so long. Tentatively, he tested the shadows and, with only a slight resistance, felt himself melting into their embrace.

"Finally," he sighed. The strength he had yearned for, the fear of another, was what allowed him to move undetected. But the Night-Mares made sure he'd gone without thus far. Stealthily, he traversed from room, to corridor, to passage in search of the source.

 _"_ _I know you're there,_ " the voice said.

 _Do you just,_ he thought smugly. His instinct to find fear assisted his hearing and he determined that the voice was coming from above. Almost directly above. He grinned maliciously. _And I know you're there._ He had to question for a moment if it was worth the journey, which would expend what precious energy he had. He could ignore the stranger and finally reign in the monstrous Night-Mares. He could-

 _"_ _I know you're there…"_ It interrupted again. He could sense this person's nerves doubling for some reason. Oh no, this was far too good an opportunity to pass up. Even just to be near them would be all the revival he would need.

 _"…_ _because I believe in you."_

His blood ran cold. A seething rage began to flood his senses. It wasn't real, there was no way it could be genuine. Then who…? His head spun in realisation. The fairy, those obnoxious, loathsome, "Guardians!" he spat. How dare they make a mockery of him! It left him incensed, but more than that, it was adding insult to injury when he had already rolled over and admitted defeat. He knew exactly what he was going to do.

 _This ends now._

* * *

Suddenly her calling was answered and the shadows surrounding the clearing seemed to converge (if that was even possible) on where Valentina stood. It startled her greatly and she remained rooted to the spot, unable to flee even though she wanted to. She looked around frantically trying to spot the demon, this fiend she sought and could have sworn her heart stopped beating when a sharp, foreboding, figure stood before her. His face, masked by shadow, was incredibly angular, and he wore robes that seemed to melt into the darkness at his feet. All that she could see with any certainty was the glint of his eyes that bore into her very soul .

"Pitch Black?" she asked hesitantly. It was undoubtedly him, but there was something about his presence that caused uncertainty in her conviction. He moved swiftly, calmly, yet she could tell there was a raging sea beneath.

"That _is_ who you're looking for, isn't it?" His address was cold and although softly spoken, his voice echoed in her head with a strange resonance.

"That's right," she said stiffly.

"Then I would be most gracious in making your acquaintance." He held out a hand in offering.

"Valentina," she introduced herself, trying not to recoil as she, against her better judgement, accepted it. Wrong choice. His hand gripped hers as he pulled her uncomfortably close.

"Why are you here?" he demanded in a low growl.

"I've heard stories," she improvised bravely and wrenched herself away, placing a considerable distance between them. "I suppose I was curious enough that I wanted to find out their merit."

"Well, well, well. This is an interesting turn of events. And here I was thinking I'd be confronting something far more arduous," Pitch said dismissively as he eyed her up and down. "But it appears I was wrong," he concluded with a sneer. As if to prove his point, he made a show of examining the dirt under his fingernails which had its desired effect on Valentina. Her blood boiled in irritation, but she also realised his goal was to make her feel amateurish.

"I wouldn't be so quick to judge if I were you," she replied as nonchalantly as she could muster.

"Oh I would," he drawled, "in fact, I already have." He paced around her in a tight circle and a shudder ran down her spine. "I can tell you what your next move will be, what will get under your skin the most," here he paused for effect, and bared his jagged teeth in a hostile smile, "what your deepest, darkest fears are."

Valentina's heart raced as it pumped the adrenaline that coursed through her veins.

"You, my dear, are an open book." The way he said "my dear" in his rounded British accent made her flush in frustration. And to be read so easily! She was nothing if not private.

"I've never told anybody-"

"Darling, you don't need to. It's the one thing I always know. Would you like me to tell you?" he baited.

"I'd rather you didn't," she shot back icily.

"Pity," he smirked, "it's always such fun getting to see their faces. The shock, the betrayal, the anger." He relished in the thought.

Valentina felt inwardly that they were diverging from the agenda and she had no idea what was taking North and Bunny so long, so she decided to take action. "Because they never quite _believed_ you, did they?" she asked slyly.

His expression remained steely but his eyes betrayed anguish. "Yes, well, some things are best to be left in the past." His soft voice had dropped dangerously low in a warning to not to over step this boundary.

Nevertheless, she persisted.

"Perhaps, but there is something I can tell you about yourself, Pitch." He raised an eyebrow at this claim, too cocky in his disbelief to stop her. "This will never just stay in the past. You will convince yourself a hundred times over but in the end you will come back to the same conclusion." She could feel her confidence growing and was determined to let it build unhindered. "Because what is this existence without being believed in, why else would you be here?"

"Why you insolent-"

"Here's something you don't know about me, Pitch. I can tell you your most desperate hopes, the dreams that beg to be realised. I know what lies deep within your heart." At least, she usually knew. With him though, something was blocking her from a clear transmission. At this point she was taking educated guesses, but she wasn't about to let him know that, not if she was right. "It's the one thing I always know." She was well aware that she was throwing that line back in his face and she could see that it visibly irked him. "You can't lie to yourself, and you certainly can't lie to me."

For a moment it seemed as though Pitch would actually tear her apart piece by piece. His eyes flashed menacingly, but he managed to regain his composure just as quickly.

"You are quite remarkable," he complimented, though his voice dripped with insincerity, "so bold, and yet so naive. Still, I must give credit where credit is due." Valentina had been uneasy for the duration of their encounter, but there was now something sinister in his tone that she couldn't ignore.

"There's just one thing," he said softly, "a rather fatal mistake I've noticed." She was sharply aware of how he seemed to hiss that last part jeeringly. To her horror, Bunny and North were revealed to her in the clearing, incapacitated by a tornado of black sand. It whirled around them unforgivingly with a dark iridescent quality. They cowered, trying to block out whatever personal hell Pitch was inflicting upon them.

"You one of them," he spat and dropped the two Guardians with complete disregard, ceasing his attack. They floundered weakly in the dirt, trying to recover from the hit.

"How did you-" she cried

"Obviously your heroic Guardians aren't quite as fearless as they'd have you believe. I sense fear, surely that was self explanatory?" he proposed mockingly. "I could have had this over with ages ago, but the Guardians hiding from the Boogeyman!? I just had to let it play out," he cackled.

"Val, you must leave," choked North. Without thinking twice she made to fly away as fast as possible and find Sandy, but instead was reeled back in by an unrelenting black rope that had latched around her wrist. Nightmare sand. With almost no effort, Pitch pulled Valentina into his arms and held her tightly.

"I'm afraid I can't let you do that," he informed her matter of factly. Bunny and North made it to their feet just in time to see the pair disappear into the shadows while Valentina's world fell away into darkness.


	5. Two could play that game

**Slang:**

Bloody Oath = An expression for certainty. In this chapter I've used it as a "mark-my-words" equivalent.

 **Reviews:**

 **Crossover Junkie:** I don't know where you're digging this stuff up from but it's great, and giving me plenty of ideas for later on! I have some ideas for a backstory, but I'm definitely keeping that one close to my chest. Thanks for keeping on believing in me :)  
 **AngelaLove072101:** You. Are. Awesome. I hope this packs enough of a punch for you.

* * *

It was an ambitious decision to attempt taking the girl with him, but her fear had become so potent that a successful transition into the shadow realm for both of them became a non-issue. Pitch was growing more powerful by the second and could only thank whatever good fortune had brought her his way. When they reformed in the deep underground he still had a secure hold on her, soon realising there was no need for it. She looked petrified; the girl wasn't going anywhere. Pitch relinquished his grip with contemptuous disregard and started to pace in deep contemplation. Admittedly, he'd been hasty in snatching the newest Guardian. What did she say her name was? No matter, it was irrelevant. The real question was what to do next. The Night-Mares were still lurking, though mercifully they weren't near by. Still, it wouldn't be long.

As his back was turned, Valentina had been gradually coming to her senses, still very much afraid given her strange and potentially dangerous situation, but she had mostly recovered from the shock. The Guardians failed to mention that Pitch would be capable of whatever just happened, which hadn't been helpful in the slightest. She had no clue what the plan was now. That had been derailed the moment _he_ showed up. The Spirit of Nightmares didn't appear intent on harming her, not for the moment at least. She couldn't say the feeling was mutual. Resentment welled up inside of her as she located a sizeable chunk of rubble and lobbed it at the dark figure ahead with a grunt and deadly good aim.

Pitch's hearing, however, was just as sharp as his quick reflexes, and both saved him from a nasty blow to the head. He whipped around and, without even touching it, crushed the rock into powder that settled anticlimactically at his feet. With an enraged scream, Valentina ran at Pitch and threw punch after punch, with sparks of magic flying at uncontrollable intervals. Unfortunately, maintaining her balance proved an oddly difficult task and as a result he managed to block most of the attacks, save for one final kick that caught him in the ribs and winded him. He glared at her as he buckled, clutching his chest.

"I can see you're going to be far more trouble than you're worth," he hissed through clenched teeth.

"You're very observant," she retaliated, albeit rather breathlessly, refusing to back down now that he'd decided to make her his problem for the foreseeable future. She was looking around the space, noticeably in ruins. It could have once been a grand hall with numerous passages leading off it, but was instead decorated with a solitary globe and crumbling debris. One thing was apparent: she wasn't getting out of the labyrinth any time soon by herself. "Why have you brought me here?"

"Since you claim to know so much about me, and you're affiliated with the Guardians, I couldn't take any chances, could I?" He revealed as he straightened himself, wincing slightly.

"What does that mean?" She couldn't quite keep a nervous tremor from tarnishing her harsh tone.

"It means you're a threat, and as such, will remain here with me," he commanded as a menacing grin formed upon his thin lips.

"You can't keep me here!" She cried. _Can he?_

"That's for me to know and you to find out," he taunted, seeming to read her mind, "regardless, _they_ most certainly will."

"Who are 'they'?" she demanded angrily. As if on cue, a chilling bray echoed from one of the nearby passages, resembling more of a black hole the harder Valentina tried to peer into it.

" _They_ are not something you'll want to run into. So I'm afraid, for better or worse, you're stuck here," he concluded smugly.

"You sick Son of a-"

"Now, now," he chided with a mocking, wagging finger, "keep shouting and you'll regret it." He tilted his head in the direction of the tunnel with mirth etched on his pointed features.

She pursed her lips, thoroughly displeased with the entire predicament.

"You realise I'm not exactly thrilled about this either," he suddenly was scowling.

"How?" She snapped while trying to keep her volume at a minimum. "How could you possibly not be thrilled about this?"

"Because now I have a hostage to deal with on top of everything else."

The unexpected contradiction left Valentina extremely puzzled and her quizzical glance betrayed as much.

"May I remind you who decided to set up an ambush in an unprovoked assault? I had no choice but to retaliate! Your lot can never seem to leave well enough alone."

She froze. Something wasn't adding up. "Unprovoked? You're the whole reason why I'm involved in this at all," she shot back.

It was Pitch's turn to falter in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"I don't know, how about your 'noble steeds' of darkness terrorising innocent children for a start?" she suggested sarcastically and was about go on, but what the Nightmare King said next stopped her dead in her tracks.

"That wasn't me."

* * *

Bunny's heart leapt into his mouth as Valentina disappeared from sight in the clutches of Pitch.

"NO!" He cried in anguish. "That bastard!" The Pooka was beside himself in a mixture of shock at the Boogeyman's dastardly actions and shame at his own cowardice when confronted with the nightmare sand.

North could only stare at the spot where Valentina had been standing. The plan had gone so wrong. How could he not have see the flaws? It was all his fault, he'd put her in harms way, and now she could be in grave danger. He snapped into action.

"Bunny, go find the others," North ordered with urgency.

With one final, reluctant look at the clearing, the Pooka sped off toward the lake where Tooth and Jack were waiting. He raced faster than a bullet at speeds that shouldn't have been possible, through trees, shrubbery and precarious piles of snow. Overhead he saw the Sandman, who was peering cautiously through the canopy with a worrisome expression.

"Oi, Sandy!" He skidded to a halt beneath him. "Go find North at the exit point, we've had trouble. Major trouble. He'll explain when you get there. Go now." The Sandman didn't need telling twice. In a bemused state, he flew on a golden cloud towards Pitch's territory while Bunny moved on to find the others. With two sharp raps of his foot on the solid ground, a hole opened up beneath him and he slipped away through the tunnels, emerging on a cliff top to find two startled Guardians. Notably, they were sitting far too close together for the following interaction to not be awkward.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked weakly, being momentarily disarmed.

"What? No. We.. we were just… It's nothing," came the combined stammered reply from Jack and Tooth.

"Yeah, well never mind that. We've got a problem."

...

"What do you mean 'disappeared'?" Jack asked specifically.

"I mean he grabbed hold of her and vanished the way he always does," Bunny explained with increasing agitation.

"No!" came the distressed exclamation from Tooth, "Into the shadows? I had no idea he could take people with him."

"None of us did," admitted North, who was slumped forlornly against one of his swords.

"Hey," Bunny placed a paw on his large shoulder, "it wasn't your fault, ok? None of this is anyone's fault but Pitch's."

"How did it happen?" Jack asked in bewilderment.

"He cornered us," North explained, "we were waiting behind trees ready to take action. But I stepped on branch and was nervous Pitch would hear. I was _nervous._ ME."

"Turns out he didn't have to hear anything," Bunny continued, "he's just got a nose like a bloodhound."

"Maybe that's a sign to finally take a shower," Jack teased, which earned him an unamused glare from the rabbit.

"Aw rack off, would you? Bloody oath, he's going to pay for this. You don't mess with the Guardians and get away with it."

"But we don't even know where he could've taken her," Jack reasoned.

"Or what he's doing," Tooth added nervously.

"I think I can take a pretty good guess." Bunny stepped toward the former pit of despair and studied it thoughtfully. "Even if he could, what's the bet he didn't want to go further than this dump out of pure convenience?"

"Makes sense, I say we crack it open," Jack decided, "who's with me?" There were murmured responses in halfhearted agreement. "Look, I don't know about you guys, but I have been down there and trust me, the sooner she's out the better. That place does things to your head." He gave a visible shudder. "Now unless someone else has a brilliant idea, we need to find Val as quickly as possible."

"Jack is right," North agreed, "Val put faith in us and we failed her. Is up to us to fix. Bunny, can you get us down there?"

"No can do," he negated, "Pitch's network runs parallel to mine. Whatever I dig up's just gonna take us back to the Warren."

"So how are we doing this?" Tooth asked as their options dwindled into single didgets.

After some consideration Jack said simply: "We blast it."

* * *

"There's no way they could have been doing my bidding, I've been practically comatose for the last… how long has it been?"

"Six years I think-"

"Six Years! And it's hardly my fault you of all people were plucked from obscurity to be one of _them_."

Pitch was attempting to get to the bottom of this new mystery while the girl (he still couldn't remember her name) was blaming him for her every grievance, resulting in a very trying exchange.

"It wasn't you? Then why have they been active?" Valentina asked more to herself than him.

Pitch was rubbing his temples in frustration. "Ever since… that night… they've been restless, more aggressive. They started to attack me instead." He muddled through what information he had. Obviously the Guardians suspected him, given the presence of his reluctant (and infuriating) companion. And at this stage he was in no shape for another confrontation. He just needed to buy himself some time, or at least fix this mess to get them off his back. He'd keep the girl for as long as necessary of course, that would teach them to finally cease their meddling.

"However," he paused to consider something, "this could work out better than I thought it might. There's a way you could help me."

"What makes you think I would ever want to do that?" she scoffed.

"Because," his mouth quirked as the idea fully formed in his mind, "I think we can help each other."

A thought had struck him; She put up a steely front but her fear was incredibly strong, too strong perhaps. It was almost over powering. It was a renewable resource to him that would be more than enough to draw upon in order to possibly bring the mare-ish beasts under his control again. But he could also sense that it needed to be lessened and he knew how to instruct her so. Of course he never did anything without some sort of gain. In the end he could reduce her fear, but there would still be a normal amount to give him strength. She could be of great value to him and who knew, perhaps he had caught her early enough for her to contemplate being his accomplice.

"I don't want your help," she adamantly refused.

"You haven't even heard my proposal," he chuckled, amused by her haughtiness. It only made her resent him even more.

"I don't need to."

"Would you listen-"

"No, YOU listen!" she snapped, "I am done listening. I am fed up with this, with you, with all of it! In the last thirty-six hours I have been taken from everything I knew, thanks to the Man in the Moon. I have been openly judged for my suitability to a role that I never asked for, I ran from everything that's been thrown at me, but still went back to face it anyway. Now I'm dealing with the fact that not only did North's so-called "foolproof" plan fail, but it could very well be my fault. And to top it all off, I get kidnapped only to be stuck underground with you."

If looks could kill, Valentina's heated glare might have had him burst into flames.

He exhaled slowly, reigning in his temper as it edged closer to reaching the end of its tether. "I think," he said softly, "if you'd just hear me out, you might reconsider."

Now, she was quite aware that Pitch Black was unlikely to be the grovelling type, but there was something in his voice that betrayed desperation. She studied his pale face carefully. He didn't seem to have noticed he'd done it. And that made Valentina actually contemplate listening.

"Okay," she replied cautiously, "What do you propose exactly?"

Pitch couldn't stop the look of surprise that flashed across his face. Only for a brief second. "Like I said," he began, "I need your help because I have an... infestation. Of sorts."

Valentina screwed up her nose in disgust. "Ok, deal's off," she dismissed in a deadpan jest and he groaned inwardly at her impertinence.

"I call them Night-Mares," he continued with thinly wearing patience, his hands held together in a steeple, "perhaps you've heard of them?"

She raised her eyebrows. "That's an understatement," she agreed and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I created an army of them years ago, slowly building them up over time with the corrupted dreamsand I stole from that little friend of yours. They were under my command and carried out my orders. I was going to use them to help my cause and I almost succeeded. That is until the Guardians, with their light and wonderment, ended it. I was forced to retreat into this hovel with what was left of them. But in my weakness, my own fear took over. They can smell it too, you know. They're ravenous for it. Even mine. Now they've turned against me and I've been trapped ever since."

"But when I called you-" she started.

"That's where you come in. The only reason I made it to the surface is because of you."

"Brilliant." Valentina didn't bother to hide her displeasure.

"Your fear is what gave me strength," he explained, almost hungrily, "in fact, it's doing that right now."

She tried to ignore how uncomfortable that last piece of information made her. "Well that isn't sadistic at all."

"My dear, that's just the way it is," he said smoothly. "That is why I need you."

Valentina gave this some momentary thought. Negotiating with terrorists was never a good idea, but there was something about this pitiful creature that compelled her to hear what he had to say. As yet, she couldn't quite put her finger on it. But for the second time since they'd met she decided to take a risk.

"And what am I supposed to get out of all of this?" She asked with growing suspicions. "You said you could help me. How?"

"Ah, now this is where things become interesting," he paused with a hint of theatricality "I can help you become the most powerful Guardian to walk this Earth. I can teach you things that those others can only dream of."

"In their worst nightmares, I'm sure," she noted thickly.

"I've seen your fears."

Valentina looked at him sharply.

"There are a number of them which, I must say, I find completely fascinating." His voice had become silky, seductive almost. "I can help you overcome them, to unlock your full potential, because, to be frank, I don't think you'd reach it if you stayed with North and his band of merry men. I mean, just now they set you up as cannon fodder. Bait, even. You were used expendably, which is just so wasteful," he criticised.

This hurt, more than Valentina would have liked to admit, and it only confirmed what she had been thinking all along.

"But, if you were to stay here with me, you wouldn't ever have to doubt yourself. I guarantee there would always be a place of importance for your powers."

Alarm bells were ringing in the Guardian's ears. It didn't make sense to her why the Boogeyman, who presumably needed her scared just to function, would help her get rid of her fears. There was too much at stake to try and outsmart him so she made her decision.

"I'm afraid you've tried to con the wrong person," she lashed out in defiance. "There's nothing you can teach me about being a Guardian, did you really think I'd be fooled that easily?" She laughed slightly manically, and much too loudly. Pitch was finally ready to unleash his fury upon being shown such disrespect when a disturbing shriek was heard from the passage, much closer than before. A pair of yellow eyes glowed from it's depths. The Boogeyman glowered at her.

"Now you've done it."

Within seconds they were surrounded by a stampede of thundering hooves. Back to back, they faced four large, black, skeleton-esque horses that stared them down aggressively as they circled. There was no reasoning in their eyes, only hunger. She attempted to stand her ground as one came dangerously close to her. She was uncertain of how to defend herself, but decided to call upon a fragment of her soul and helper, aptly named Cupid, taking the form of a soft pink gaseous cloud. She didn't know if it would help, but it did make her feel more in control of the situation. It wavered in front of her, creating a shield between her and the Night-Mare. In the end though, despite her efforts to keep her terror under control, she felt it bubble up from her subconscious until it blocked out rational thought entirely. They were making it worse, every small insecurity. And the bitterness she had found herself increasingly prone to finally reared its ugly head and transformed into seething hatred. She hadn't noticed, but Cupid flickered grey and then faded to black before disappearing all together. Her heart raced until she thought it would explode and her lungs would collapse. She fell before the beast, willing for it to take her then, wishing for it to be over.

"GET AWAY FROM HER"

Pitch's roar thundered louder than the commotion in her mind that threatened to consume her sanity. She dared to look up. The Night-Mare was miraculously backing off.

"None of you touch her, you hear me!?" he commanded, incurring a wrath upon them unlike any Valentina had ever seen. They seemed unsure whether to listen or disregard their former master. It appeared to be the latter. They started towards her again. With a startling howl, Pitch summoned a storm of nightmare sand that flushed the Night-Mares out of the vicinity and forced them to retreat back into the tunnels from whence they came.

Finally being able to catch their breath, Pitch's stance relaxed somewhat and Valentina got to her feet when her strength had returned. She turned to him in awe.

"You… You saved me from them."

She peered at the face of the Nightmare King, which was set in a hardened expression. His breathing was heavy and he dared not meet her eyes.

"Thank you," she said quietly. When he made no reply she made to walk away, giving him some space, but was halted.

'No one deserves what those things can do to you," she heard from behind her. Valentina turned around to see Pitch in the middle of a revelation.

"I was a fool. I should never have…" he trailed off. "Just leave. You're free to go."

There was a long silence.

"No."

Pitch looked at her abruptly.

"I want to take up your offer." She surprised both herself and him in saying this. "You were right. I need to overcome my fears, not even just to be a good Guardian, but to be functional when I need to. I was useless just now, but if you can help me, the way you say you can, I would be willing to be your protector."

It was true, Valentina didn't trust Pitch as far as she could throw him. She couldn't be sure that everything he said about the Night-Mares was true, and he had almost managed manipulate her against the Guardians with his sly tactics. But what he had just said, admitting he'd been wrong, there was no deception there. Of course, her instincts, which she was now happy to oblige, told her that Pitch had had an agenda himself at some point and it was important she remained cognisant of that fact. _Well_ _two could play that game,_ Valentina thought. If she stayed, she could keep an eye on his movements from the inside and give the others an advantage. Perhaps she _could_ outsmart Pitch, she just had to remain one step ahead.

"Not for protection," he clarified rather pettily, "I'm the Boogeyman, I don't need a body guard."

"Sure, whatever you say," she shrugged.

And she knew the Guardians had done the best they could under the circumstances. No one had anticipated Pitch to act so brazenly. But now she had the opportunity to make things right. To really prove she was worthy.

"I also think my talents are wasted on the Guardians," she added for good measure.

And even though there was a slimy aura that surrounded him from countless years of misdeeds and selfish behaviour, she had seen something in him that she was certain he had yet to guess at himself.

He examined her in surmise, but Valentina presented her best poker face in this deadly dance with the devil.

"Do we have a deal?" she bartered with her hand reached out to him. Pitch allowed an impressed smirk to make an appearance.

"Deal," he finalised.

It was possible that the deepest desires of the heart could go unrecognised. Indeed, it was rare but with Pitch, Valentina thought it made perfect sense. His passions were buried beneath countless centuries of such hostility and bitterness that she was having trouble getting a clear reading. However with time, perhaps...

"So," she narrowed her gaze challengingly, "you think I might be worth that trouble after all?"

"Perhaps," he replied in a noncommittal manner, "but if you decide to test what little patience I have," he threatened, "your time here can be made very unpleasant, I can assure you."

"You have my word."

Pitch couldn't be sure where this confident change in demeanour had come from, but it most certainly roused his suspicions. He would have to keep a watchful eye on the girl. It was uncanny that she possessed similar reading powers to his, and that would have to be monitored indefinitely. He felt bad for his aggression, he didn't want to hurt her, not really. He hadn't even tried to fight her back. That's not who his true quarrel was with. However, in knowing so little about her, the powers she possessed were completely unpredictable to him. A subtle warning would hopefully keep that in check for the time being, for a delicate power balance had to be maintained. There was just one thing left to be sorted.

"You'll have to forgive me," he started, "I can't quite recall what you said your name was."

The girl stared with bemused amusement at him.

"It's just a formality," he snapped hurriedly, "but I suppose I would prefer to be on a first name basis. Especially if you already know who I am," he justified. She quirked an eyebrow in judgement but told him anyway.

"Valentina," she said.

"Valentina," he tested, tasting the name as it rolled off the tongue, "interesting."

"Well, actually," she corrected, "it's Valentina Cupidonia, Spirit of Love."

"Right," he acknowledged with a quick roll of his eyes, and was about say something else, but it was forgotten as he became aware of a rumbling coming from a far off passage.

"What…?" he breathed.

"What's wrong?"

"Shhh. Listen," he urged. The noise was getting louder, more defined. It sounded like individual explosions coming from the surface. The realisation dawned on him.

"Those Guardians are meddling in things they ought not to," he said darkly. The rhythmic detonations ceased for a second in a deadly quiet. Suddenly a deafening explosion echoed painfully off the stone which gave way to the whinnies and shrieks of the Night-Mares that combined with a thunderous galloping of hooves. But almost as quickly as it began it was over. All around it was quiet, much too quiet.

"What the hell was that?" Valentina exclaimed in a hush.

Pitch had a mixture of anger and concern etched on his face that unnerved her. He cursed under his breath.

"Those wretched idiots."


	6. Lesson one

**A/N:** I surprised myself, I don't think I've ever managed to write a chapter within 3 days. This is truly a feat of inspired ramblings, but I think it will still make sense. I hope.

 **Crossover Junkie:** This one goes out to you. For your constant support and for reminding me why I find Pitch to be such a fascinating and compelling "villain". For tidbits and facts. For helping me with an idea that I would have struggled with otherwise. I hope you don't mind, I've used a modified version of your idea, the lesson. Full credit for it goes to you. Thank you.

* * *

Sandy had geared himself up for one final shot and with an almighty explosion, his dreamsand forced the mine-like shaft open. Where it was once a modest hole in the ground, the former entrance to Pitch's lair now resembled more of a crater.

"Good work, Sandy," North commended, but that was a far as their self-congratulations went. Shortly after the detonation, there was a rumbling from the underground. The Guardians glanced at each other in concern as the noise grew, seeming to rise up from the ground. Bunny's ears twitched in anticipation until they froze and dropped abruptly.

"Everybody take cover!" Bunny ordered. They ran from the entrance and made it into the thicket moments before a swarming of dark masses were expelled from the crater. The Guardians realised with dismay that what they saw were at least a hundred Night-Mares racing off into the night with the intent of doing untold damage.

"What have we done!?" Tooth shouted above the whinnies and shrieks. Jack leapt into action with his staff, trying to freeze or paralyse some of them as they rushed into the clearing. Bunny with his boomerangs, and North with his icy swords, both followed and managed to destroy several on their exodus, and Tooth fought valiantly with her razor sharp dagger. But the Sandman was their most invaluable warrior, who could neutralise them with a single touch. When the stampede had finally dissipated, they were left with the remains of what dark horses they had managed to attack with a dusting of black nightmare sand. Jack rubbed his face in utter regret.

"That was not what I had in mind," he groaned.

"We got some of them though," Tooth reassured him.

"But not all of them," Bunny lamented, "this problem just got a whole lot worse."

"Bunny is right. We don't know how many were out before, but we just released every Night-Mare Pitch has left out into open," North informed them gravely. Their collective distress was evident, but there was no time to lose.

"We'll deal with it later, in the mean time Val is still down there," Tooth reminded them, "come on." She flitted with a hint of uncertainty above the drop before gritting her teeth and free falling down into the darkness that was black as tar. The others glanced at each other with doubtful shrugs before following after her.

They landed in a tumbled heap on the dusty ground where the shaft opened into one of the numerous passages that made up Pitch's labyrinth. Bunny stood and sniffed the air, listening with his large ears. Without a word, he indicated that they follow him. They ducked and dodged stalactites that were, at best, inconveniently placed. Although, Bunny thought, that was probably the idea. After several minutes the passage opened up into a cavern, which they had to admire in unsettled awe for its expansiveness. And there, in the centre of the room, was Valentina with Pitch ever lurking in the darkness behind her. The Guardians defaulted into attack formation immediately.

"Pitch!" Tooth snarled, "You better not have laid a finger on her or so help me-"

"I wouldn't dream of it, Sweet Tooth," he practically purred.

"Don't you ever call me that," she shuddered.

He emerged from the shadows almost gliding, walking hardly with the weight of a true human, or spirit for that matter, which they found subtly disquieting. "Not a fan?" he pouted insincerely, "Well, I know all about being inconvenienced, having to deal with trespassers and what not," he sneered.

"You know perfectly why we are here," North implied.

"Ah yes, your little trouble with my Night-Mares, I've heard all about that thanks to our newest addition," he chuckled darkly. "I'd tell you I had nothing to do with it, but really what's the point?"

"Good, save your breath," Bunny chimed in, "Val, get away from that creep, he's bad news," he advised without breaking his glare at the Boogeyman. But Valentina did not move. In fact she barely managed to look them in the eyes.

"Val? What's going on?" Tooth pestered with increasing concern. Valentina mumbled something under her breath, looking incredibly uncomfortable.

"What did you say?"

"I said no," she reiterated more forcefully.

The Tooth Fairy's face fell in disbelief, while the others looked on in bewilderment.

"What do you mean 'no'?" North interrogated.

"I mean I won't be returning with you. Any of you. I'm staying," she revealed thickly.

"That's insane, are you even hearing yourself?" Jack cried. Valentina took a deep breath and met their eyes with a stony gaze.

"I am staying here with Pitch. There's nothing any of you can do or say about it," she spoke evenly. "I never wanted to be one of you and I never will. You bring hope and joy to the children of the world, fine. I don't."

"Val, please," Tooth begged, "I don't know where this is coming from but we can figure it out."

"That's the thing Tooth, I don't think we can. You told me yourself that there was no reason why I should have been chosen.

"I didn't… you're twisting my words," she stuttered helplessly.

"So, because you didn't know what to do with me, you used me as bait."

"You were not bait," argued North.

"No? What would you call it then, a lure? A trap? " she suggested coldly. "What ever the case, you used me." The Russian could say nothing in return.

"And since the question is always going to be what to do with me, I've decided to take it out of your hands. You won't have to deal with me anymore."

"You rat," Bunny spat at Pitch. The Boogeyman snickered as the Pooka had to be restrained by North.

"Interesting that the rabbit picks a rodent for an insult," he quipped to Valentina with amusement.

"You've done something to her!" Tooth accused.

"Oh I think you'll find our spirit of the hour is perfectly capable of speaking for herself," Pitch assured them. "I've barely said anything."

"I won't hesitate to rip you limb from limb," Bunny said dangerously.

"That's a bit barbaric for you lot," he exclaimed in mock surprise. That was when Valentina truly shocked them all.

"There won't be any need for that Bunny, we have a deal." She was met with gasps of abhorrence.

"Val, whatever he's offered you, it's not worth it. He's using you," Tooth urged.

"No, he's not. In this short time, he's already proven that he values me. He doesn't question, he doesn't doubt, which is more than I can say for any of you," she spat venomously. Tooth looked as if she'd just witnessed a train wreck. "Now, you all need to leave," she commanded. They began to protest in a clamour but she cut them off.

"I will only ask once."

There was nothing more to say and nothing that could be done. They couldn't force her to do anything, Valentina had made her decision how ever ill-informed it was. It hurt them greatly, but Tooth felt the sting most keenly. She and Valentina could have been friends, the best of friends. But just like her fairies and the teeth, Pitch stole something precious from her once more. With a mournful glance over her shoulder, Tooth followed the others.

* * *

They were finally gone, and Valentina thought her heart would break. The moment the Guardians stepped into the room, her blood had run cold as ice and she knew she had to act quickly, lest the Nightmare King suspect something was afoot. How perfectly, tragically it had worked.

Pitch began to chuckle softly to himself. "My, my, that was impressive!" he praised. "I wasn't sure what would happen but that! Oh now that, my dear, was truly ruthless." It took every fibre of her being to hold herself together in his presence. She needed to truly convince him if this was going to work.

"They all know I'm not one of them," she reminded him stiffly, "not really. Besides I've found something better."

He smirked with satisfaction.

It came to be that Pitch decided Valentina would need her own quarters, somewhere for her to retreat. It was essentially a disused cavern, cold and primitive, yet oddly she liked that. Pitch had made it clear she was allowed to roam anywhere, being a guest rather than a prisoner, but this would be just for her to use as needed. Of course she knew Pitch had really suggested it for when they, inevitably, became so irritated that they couldn't stand to look at each other, but she appreciated the unexpected generosity all the same. It was somewhere she could be alone, somewhere she could think. She used it at her first opportunity.

Valentina desperately needed to contact the Guardians somehow, to let them know it was all a ruse, that she was still with them despite her peculiar way of showing it. She wished she could have done things another way, one that wasn't so cruel. But there was no time for a briefing, and it was better if they didn't know. It made everything more convincing. She had to admit, even she was beginning to believe the accusations which were indeed 'truly ruthless'. She was a better actress than she gave herself credit for.

Once she was sure she wouldn't be disturbed, Valentina summoned Cupid again. The cloud appeared, with a only a ghost of a face and a far more wispy quality than earlier. Cupid often changed her appearance with Valentina's mood and with her feelings of dejection, this time was no exception.

"I need you to find the Guardians," she whispered to her urgently, "theres something I have to tell them… and apologise for." She reacted happily at being given an errand, and with a puff, Cupid evaporated. It would be a while before Valentina heard anything. Given her exhaustion from being so emotionally and physically drained, she found a little nook in the craggy face of the far rock wall and curled up. She didn't sleep exactly, spirits didn't need sleep. She did close her eyes though and let her mind drift.

She thought of her status as a Guardian, how big a responsibility it was and how she was yet to do any good for the children. But she was doing something by trying to keep Pitch at bay, right? The Guardians always seemed to be able to do the right thing by them. They knew what they were doing… _What can I do?_ …Their faces when she so brutally rejected them swam across her mind's canvas, she felt so guilty. She didn't know if they'd forgive her but she had to try. Perhaps if she could make them understand… Pitch… Pitch Black. Charismatic and frightening in equal amounts, but there was a yearning for something else. He was an enigma, confusing and compelling, who was driven by one thing… What was it like to be believed in? To be seen, and heard, not walked through as the world passed you by. Doing so much and getting nothing in return. What was it like… Bitterness, fear, anger. Bitterness, fear, anger… Loneliness. A whirlpool that dragged you down, a tide too strong to swim against. There was nothing, not even darkness. She was drowning… drowning…

 _Valentina_

She let out a choked whimper, with eyes shut tight as she buried her face in her arms. She hadn't heard the footsteps coming in, nor did she see the hand that reached out toward her.

" _Valentina"_

She felt someone take hold of her shoulder and shake it gently.

"Valentina."

She gasped and her eyes flashed open. Standing before her was Pitch with an unreadable expression. He didn't quite seem to know what to do with himself.

"What are you doing here?" she gulped as she tried to swallow the lump in her throat.

He shifted awkwardly, an oddity for someone who just earlier commanded a room with ease. "I heard you. I probably shouldn't have come in."

She grunted in agreement, wiping her tear stained face. "Yeah, you might have been on to something there," she sniffled.

"You sounded distressed. You were scared." There was the faintest hint of concern on his face. That certainly took her by surprise. The Boogeyman, concerned?

She gave him a look as she uncurled herself. "It's fine, just a bad dream or something," she dismissed apathetically. Pitch frowned to himself not intending for her to notice. "Oh, I didn't mean it like that," she back peddled, "it's nothing," and grimaced as she dug herself a deeper hole, "…oh no."

"Just a bad dream," he repeated.

She sighed, mentally kicking herself, and started to fuss over the dust that had been collected by her skirt to avoid his glare.

"Don't fret, I think I've had enough time to get used to that one." She glanced up and instead of facing his trademark scowl, the corners of his mouth were upturned in amusement, another surprise. Granted, it was at her expense.

"What is it that frightens you?" He queried.

She ceased batting the dust out of her clothes. "I thought you could read people's fears. 'It's the one thing I always know', she mimicked in an abysmal accent, "isn't that what you said?"

"I don't sound like that," he retorted indignantly, to which she cracked watery smile. "I did," he agreed eventually, "and I can. But I want to hear you say them."

She gave a short mirthless laugh and baited, "wouldn't it be more impressive if you told me them, since you're not supposed to know?"

He exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes. "I'm not about to showoff when I have nothing to prove," he answered abruptly.

"Funny, I thought you liked all that," she snickered.

"This is different," he stressed. His brow furrowed in thought, and then rose as an idea struck him. "Come with me," he beckoned, "I want to show you something."

He led her back out to his globe room with it's ruined Corinthian pillars and eerily suspended cages, which Valentina thought best not to ask too many questions of. She now noticed everything was tilted on a slight angle, and yet Pitch walked the gradient in a way that defied gravity. It explained why she had felt rather unsteady when she first arrived and she had to admit it was an ingenious optical illusion.

"Wait here," he instructed her, and positioned her at one end of an uneven walkway with himself at the other.

"What are we-"

Valentina wasn't able to finish her question, for as she spoke, Pitch fired a blast of nightmare sand that spiralled like a corkscrew right for her. She yelped as she dodged out of the way.

"What the Hell!?" she screeched. He didn't answer, only summoned yet another twister, bigger than the last, that came far too close for comfort. He was frightening her now, with a black, wolfish snarled that could curdle dairy and that made him look every bit the villain she had been warned of. He cackled deviously.

"Pitch, you're scaring me," she cried. _What a stupid thing to say to the Nightmare King_ , she realised immediately.

"So what are you going to do about it?" he challenged.

"I… what?"

"I said…" He raised his arms, controlling a sheet, no, a wave of the black, iridescent sand. "…what are you going to do about it?". It came towering towards her.

"Better think quick," he called.

Instinctively, she threw her arms out in front of her and formed a shield that had the same wispy quality as Cupid. It worked, the sand crashed around her with no damage done thanks to her shimmering force. As quickly as it built, the sand disappeared from the space and his scowl evaporated with it.

"Well," Pitch chuckled, enjoying himself too much for Valentina's taste, "that wasn't terrible."

"You really are a maniac," she told him, not finding his stunt the tiniest bit amusing.

"A calculated maniac," he corrected, and strolled to meet her half way.

She shook her head in derision. "What in Moon's name was that for then?"

"Consider this the start of your training," he suggested.

"You're actually going to help me," she remarked dubiously.

"Of course!" he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "I never go back on my word." His amicability seemed to veil a threatening undertone. He was taking their deal seriously. "The exercise we just completed was to demonstrate my first lesson. Or at least it was supposed to," he reflected drearily.

"And would that have something to do with me?" She could already guess the answer.

"When confronted with a situation in which most creatures would consult their fight or flight response, you chose to freeze," he assessed with a mirthless grin. "Now, your reaction did not assist this presentation at all, thank you very much, but it does show me something rather critical."

"Okay," she prompted.

"You let your fears get the better of you, but that's not all, there's something darker there, an anxiousness. You're sacred by something. You feel feel frightened. Your heart rate gets faster, your palms become clammy, you breathe in short rapid breaths. Theres a tightness in your chest, a sickening of the stomach. You take in everything around you, overloading your senses until it confuses you in a blur. Then the doubt sets in. The sickening has become a knot of tension. The panic you feel becomes overwhelming, blocking out any shreds of rationality. You're left paralysed in terror as your mind races unrestrained! - Sound familiar?"

Valentina suppressed a shudder. What Pitch described had taken her back to that dark place, when the horses were upon her, when she felt herself drowning.

"That sounds about right," she agreed solemnly. For as long as she could remember, beyond her time as a spirit, she'd had an underlying anxiety. It was worse than just feeling nervous and stressed. It gnawed at her attention, making its presence known for the most obscure reasons. And although some days were better than others, it followed her as surely as her shadow did. She seldom told anyone, not that she'd really had someone to tell, but she presented a confident front as often as possible. However there were some situations when even she couldn't hide her inner demons.

"It doesn't have to be, you know."

"Perhaps you can teach me how to ignore it," she hypothesised. Of course! Pitch would help her finally put a stopper to this curse that plagued her mind.

"No!"

The sense of relief vanished.

"You should never suppress your fear," he warned ominously, "but we'll get to that later."

"But how am I supposed to be of any use to anyone if all do is freeze?" she questioned in dismay.

He twirled his index finger and wisps of black sand materialised around it. Each granule swirled in its own messy orbit until they gathered in the form of a sphere, perfect and round, balanced on the tip of his finger.

"You learn to control your fear rather than let it control you," he said simply, "which brings us to lesson one: Fear does not have to be your enemy." There was that look again. A plea that only his eyes betrayed. As she looked more carefully, she now noticed they were not just a greyish brown like she had first thought, but also had flecks of bronze and gold that glimmered in the half light that filtered it's way into the underground space from an unknown source.

"You say that like it can help me," she comprehended.

"In some instances it most certainly can," he assured her. "That response I mentioned before, it fills you with adrenaline. Heightens the senses as well as your natural physical capabilities. It is there to help creatures survive."

She crossed her arms and jutted a hip to the side. "You seem to have some experience with it."

"Of course. It's my job to inspire that response in them." He flashed his jagged teeth in a pointed grin. "My dear, I AM fight or flight."

And Valentina was reminded once again of with whom she was dealing.

"So the bottom line is that it can have its uses?"

"Over the centuries I've discovered as much, yes. For you see, if there isn't enough fear, the creature becomes complacent, it looses its instinct to protect itself. But too much," he glanced at her, "the creature's fear response is overreactive, and that fear grows, manifesting in the mind. It's not healthy, and can never be ignored. Despite what you might think of me, that fear is not pleasant, to them or me. That's why I endeavour to exist in that happy, or perhaps unhappy, medium." He snickered at his own joke but stopped when he realised that not only did Valentina not appreciate it, she was entirely absent with a vacant expression. Her arms had fallen languidly from their fold and he realised with some regret that he may have upset her.

"Valentina?" He coaxed her back to reality and her green eyes flickered in recognition. "it can be fixed. You are not damaged and it doesn't make you weak," he assured, reading her fears that rolled over to him in waves.

Valentina felt a silent tear slip down her cheek. She rarely considered finding a solution because as far as she knew it didn't exist, she had always just dealt with what she thought would always be. She had accepted herself as the spirit of love, who opened the hearts of others, who could never seem to spare a kind word for herself.

"It can be fixed, you have my word."

And without warning, she crumpled into his chest, heaving ragged breaths, all of which shocked Pitch. And despite his disposition to push anyone away who came near, he let her stay there for a good, long time.


	7. Feelings aren't so bad

**A/N:** It's like 2am, I just finished this, and against my better judgement I'm gonna post. I'll probably read it tomorrow and be horrified. So if you come back and find things have changed, that's why.

 **Crossover Junkie:** I have had no time to listen this week, believe it or not, but I will get on to that first thing tomorrow. Thanks for the suggestion :)

* * *

Toothiana did not return with the others to the North Pole that night. In despondency she retreated to the Tooth Place, which was losing its polished gleam with each hour as more children fell victim to the Night-Mare's rampage. Thankfully however, their progress seemed to be slowed by the fact that the fairies were still active, bringing money to children in exchange for their precious teeth and the memories they contained. It had bought the Guardians invaluable time, and with Christmas only 24 hours away, there was a strong chance that the Night-Mares would be thwarted by sheer belief from the kids alone. In any case, it gave them room to consider the most recent of shocking developments.

For Tooth, Valentina's rejection had been particularly painful and part of her refused to accept it. She had implored that they return to remove her from that place, be it by choice or sheer force. But as Bunny had aptly put it, if she was 'whacked' enough to think Pitch was actually on her side, then she deserved whatever was coming to her.

Between the pooka's constant switching between polarised opinions, and Valentina siding with Pitch, nothing was making sense. And then there was the Boogeyman himself. He said he had nothing to do with the mysterious happenings. Although surely it was just another of his mind games to scare them in to some sort of paranoia.

She was so lost. Her logic told her that Valentina was good in her heart, Manny would not have trusted her with this role otherwise. _But to have such flawed reasoning makes her a danger to the cause-_ Tooth's train of thought stopped in its tracks. The accusations hadn't just been an overreaction, she realised. Valentina had truly felt scrutinised and as evidenced by her own judgemental thoughts, she could now see why.

"How could I have been so oblivious?" Tooth's doleful whisper caught the attention of her fairies, her highest in command flittering over to where she had sunk to the ground with arms wrapped around herself. They did their best to comfort her, and although she appreciated their concern, the Tooth Fairy waved them away, wanting to be left alone.

So engrossed by her introspection was she, that she didn't notice the emerald and turquoise bands of light that illuminated the sky outside. Nor did she see the frosty haired boy who flew in silently an hour later, landing on a perch above her, in search of the missing member of their team who failed to show. He instantly felt rather than saw that she was upset. There was a great sadness that bittered the atmosphere and tugged at his heart, breaking like a wave that left him chilled and disheartened. He descended to crouch before the forlorn Tooth Fairy

"Hey," he said quietly, "I was wondering what was keeping you." She looked at him with a small, sad smile, which soon fell back to it's melancholy thin line. "Do you want to talk about it?"

She nodded her head slightly, but then shook it, not being able to decide. She felt if she opened her mouth it would all come flooding out and she wouldn't be able to hold back the tears. "Jack," was all she said but he understood. The winter spirit took her hand and squeezed it comfortingly in his, although he was conscious of how cold they must have been to someone else. Tooth, however, hardly noticed.

"It's my fault," she sniffed and stared at the spiralling quadrangular patterns on the floor that blurred as her eyes brimmed with tears.

Jack's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean, how could anything be your fault?"

"I told her she shouldn't have been chosen," came the un-fairy-like croak. This revelation did nothing to ease Jack's bewilderment. Such a thing would have been completely out of character for her.

"Hmm," he reacted in mock thoughtfulness, "yes I suppose in that case it would be your fault," he agreed, which earned him a wounded look. "But you know, I don't think you said that," he said with a teasing smile. "At least not in those exact words." She peered at him inquisitively. "Tooth, I know you. You're the most kind hearted, understanding and supportive person I've ever met. There's no way you would have told Val outright that she shouldn't be here," he reasoned, "so what did you actually say?"

She thought carefully, replaying their conversations from earlier. "...I said I didn't know why she was chosen," she realised.

"Which is completely different to saying she shouldn't have been!" With a finger he gently tilted her chin up so she would meet his maple eyes with her violet ones, which caused her to bite her lip in a shy smile. "I get that with everything going on right now it's really tempting to play the blame game, and even easier to just chalk it up to something you did, but it's not your fault. If anything, our biggest problem is me for having the bright idea of trying to break in." Jack grimaced as the memory came back to him.

"I won't have you saying that either, Jack Frost," Tooth berated fiercely, "you did everything with the right intentions. We all make mistakes, but like I said to Val, nothing you do is truly unforgivable if you did your best."

He shot her a lopsided grin. "Aha! There's the Tooth I know," he laughed, to which she rolled her eyes with a begrudging smile.

"I thought I'd gotten through to her though, or that we'd reached some kind of understanding. She was so concerned about doing her best, it just doesn't make sense why she would do something so drastic. I guess even more than that, I thought we were friends."

The hurt in her voice hit him like a kick in the gut and for a moment he was angry. Angry at the Night-Mares, at Pitch, and most definitely the Guardian of Love who had shown her self to be anything but. Still, he willed himself to be rational.

"I'm sorry Toothie. You're right, it doesn't make sense. But whatever the case, it's not your fault." His hand tightened to a clenched fist. "We're going to get some answers or I swear…"

"Thank you Jack." She wrapped her arms around him in a grateful hug and he did the same. When they pulled away slightly, Tooth was stuck by the tender kindness that she saw in the frost spirit's face. The warm gaze, the reassuring smile, the glistening snow-white teeth… she sighed before coming to her senses and blushed awkwardly, conscious of disgracing the uniform. What a bothersome code of conduct.

"Was there something else that brought you here, Jack?" she enquired, remembering how he'd dropped in unannounced.

"Besides sensing that someone around here was in need of a little cheering up?" With a wave of his hand he commanded bright, little snowflakes to fall softly around them, one of which landed on the tip of Tooth's nose endearingly and made her giggle. "Actually I did," he said in more sobered tone, "North called us all together, but when you didn't show up I came to find you." Tooth looked outside to see Aurora Borealis dancing across the night sky.

"Oh no, I'm so sorry! I didn't even realise. Why didn't any of you say something?" She turned to her fairies who shrugged in reply; they had tried several times. "Oh well, that one was definitely my fault. Come on Jack, we better get going."

She flew out of the palace with the frost spirit closely following behind.

"Hang on," he stopped her, "I can get us there quickly. Do you trust me?"

She laughed, "of course I do."

"Ok, grab my hand," and he clasped hers tightly in one, with his staff in the other. "Wind?" He called out, "take us to the North Pole!"

They were anticipating the wind to catapult them into the atmosphere, but the gentle breeze was barely raised raised to a gust and merely nudged them as they hovered.

"That's not right," Jack muttered, "Wind! Get us out of here!" Again, the breeze only stirred slightly. "What's happening to me?"

A look of horror crossed Tooth's face as she felt her wings becoming tired, struggling to hold herself aloft."The children! It's happening all over again. We need to get to the North Pole now," she cried. Suddenly she was incredibly grateful the Jack still had a hold of her hand.

"It'll take too long with out that boost though." He scraped his hand through his hair in distress, trying to think of a solution.

Tooth's eyes brightened as an idea came to her. "I have a way," she revealed, "It's going to be tricky, but I think I can at least get us close."

He shot her a look of trepidation. "What's that?"

"Do you trust me?" she asked him, all humour gone.

He barely had to consider his answer. "Always," he affirmed.

"Then hold on tight to me," she ordered and he grabbed her arm. Jack looked at her in confusion as she grimaced, and then gasped as the world around them disappeared in bubbles of pure light.

* * *

Her tears had long since dried when Valentina finally came to her senses. It was like stirring from sleep a little dazed and then coming to a shocking realisation that wrenches you awake. Pitch still had a hold of her, they were now reclined against the low rise of the cobbled walkway's edge. But his embrace wasn't with the roughness he'd done so before. This time it was carful, cautious even. Above all, it was comforting. She shifted slowly and turned to face him, finding he was already observing her with an attentive curiosity. She met his eyes. Definitely golden, she thought.

"Thanks," she mumbled, "you didn't have to do that."

He smiled slightly at the irony of it and shrugged. "My dear, you were practically all over me, I did feel a slight obligation," he chuckled and Valentina cringed out of embarrassment. "I might be the monster that haunts the underside of beds, but I'm nothing if not a gentleman."

She scoffed, "A true gentleman would never let a woman stay so close to him for so long."

"Indeed," he mused, "I seem to be out of touch with propriety." His facial features slipped into a devilish grin as he laughed to himself. "Perhaps I'm not after all"

"I'm glad you're not."

Pitch gave her a strange look and she felt her face growing warm at the unintentional slip up. Time to change the subject. Hurriedly, she got to her feat which were a little unsteady after being still for all that time. Pitch was almost weightless by comparison in the way he erected himself. There was no stumbling, there was barely gravity. It was a most curious thing to observe.

"I'd like to try it again." Pitch continued to stare at her perplexedly. "The training, I mean," she added hastily.

"That's enough for one day," he dismissed wearily as he strolled past her, with his hands clasped leisurely behind his back.

Valentina frowned at his offhandedness. "But we barely started. I thought you said you would help me." His indifference had evoked a frustration in her that she found difficult to control, only made worse by the way he blatantly ignored her. "Is that really all you've got?" She called angrily after the calmly retreating cloaked figure, daring to confront him. Reason told her he had a point. But she didn't want to listen. "I guess I was right, there's nothing you can really teach me," she yelled.

Pitch was quicker than a whip to round on her. In an instant he was everywhere and nowhere, a shifting of the shadows, a silhouette on the walls. His enragement was a distorted, deafening whisper in her ear.

"What did I say about testing my patience?" She could almost hear the sneer that would have been carved on his pointed features. "I said I would help you, and I will. I remind you that I never go back on my word. But so far, our simple exercise has resulted in discomfort for both of us and my enthusiasm has since dwindled considerably. There are many more things I could teach you, Valentina, but I refuse to do so until I believe you are ready. And I will not be bullied into submission by petty insults!"

The Guardian stood small against the multitude of towering figures that crept along the high walls of the cavern.

 _Discomfort for both of us_. What had she expected, other than resentment from the Nightmare King? She was filled with remorse at her complete loss of control. Truthfully, she had no idea what caused her to snap. These uncontrollable outbursts were becoming more frequent and worrisome with each incident. She retreated with careful backward steps until she bumped into something solid and stifled a scream when she found herself face to face the furious Pitch Black, who seemed to have grown in height. He leered down at her with venom piercing his glare.

"I can easily become your worst nightmare, so I advise you to tread lightly," he hissed through jagged teeth.

"You don't need to, I'm already living it," she cried, "You have no idea what my life is like."

Pitch became deathly still, not once breaking his withering gaze.

"Are you quite sure?" His jaw was so tightly clenched, Valentina thought it might surely break.

"You think I don't know what it's like to watch each miserable day go by while the chosen ones get to frolic among their precious believers? I have existed in this world for millennia, long before the Guardians came into being. There was a time when I had more power than you could possibly imagine. But because there are those whom misfortune will always follow, one day the balance was tipped out of my favour. The Man in the Moon was no longer just an observer of mortal affairs as he had always been, but an equivocator. He appointed his minions, the do-gooders, the heroes to children everywhere. But let it be known that he failed to create an even playing field. I wasn't just opposed, I was _replaced_ with dreams and light. Squashed into dark cupboards, left for dead under beds, suppressed beneath the delirium of joy and happiness. ' _Oh, it was nothing but a bad dream, there's no such thing as the Boogeyman!'_ His voice caught, revealing the rawness of the pain had experienced. When he proceeded, there was a torment that could plainly be heard.

"You think you're the only one who knows what it's like to not be believed in? To have known rejection, to feel worthless? To be afraid that for the rest of your sentience, no one will understand your true worth?"

For the first time, Valentina could see with absolute clarity what lay in Pitch's presumably cold heart. It wasn't callous hatred for the sake of hatred that spurred him on. He was driven by necessity. He needed the belief of children, not for power, but mere existence. But what struck Valentina the most were the other desires that stirred in his chest. More than anything he longed for validation and solidarity. His was the loneliest heart she had ever encountered, rife with anguish and sadness. His true desire was companionship.

"So you really do know people's darkest fears," she muttered. "I'm sorry, it was naive to say that," she apologised quietly.

He was taken aback by her sudden change in demeanour and calmed noticeably. In fact he was almost stunned. "And I too should apologise," he admitted begrudgingly, "there are better ways to deal with things other than flying off the handle."

In light of their mutual remorse, Valentina decided to come clean. "You know, I was kind of bluffing before," she revealed sheepishly.

He frowned at this cryptic twist in conversation. "Bluffing?"

"I said I could read your heart and all its desires. If you recall, it's something of a specialty of mine.… well not quite this time. Yours was by far the most difficult to read I've ever come across. But now I think I've really seen what's there."

Pitch made a deep, guttural grunt of disapproval in the back of his throat.

"It took me longer than usual to get right, there's a lot of… stuff…going on here." She gestured vaguely to all of him. "But I've seen them and I know they exist. They show me you are not who I first thought you were."

He didn't dare ask, didn't want to know. He felt completely disarmed by how transparent Valentina had made him sound and shifted uncomfortably, crossing his arms in a last feeble attempt at concealment."Why only now?" he queried irritably.

"You allowed yourself to be vulnerable. Normally that's not even an issue for me, but you're…" she paused, deciding how best to say this, "…well, an unusual case."

Valentina's skills for deduction were proving to be more inconvenient the more Pitch became familiar with them. He hadn't intended anything, certainly nothing that would lower his defences, but it happened anyway. He hadn't meant to, had he?

"Have you always been like this?" She asked.

"What, weak?" he answered defensively at her intrusiveness.

"No. Lonely."

He started in surprise; evidently not what he'd expected. "Loneliness isn't something I should have to endure," he said bitterly. "I didn't always look like this," he gestured to his own body, "but I became so fascinated by human kind that I took their form for my own. I had no idea that I would be cursed with their ways of thinking, or their capacity for _feelings_." He drew the word out, as though it had a revolting taste that sickened him.

"Feelings aren't so bad," Valentina rebutted nonchalantly, "one of the most unique things about humanity is the complexity of their emotions. I mean, two people may detest each other at first, but eventually they might find common ground. And because of their ability to empathise, they're able to see where the other is coming from. Their commonalities become a camaraderie, and through that bond they grow to care for each other." She looked at him intently. "It's actually kind of inspiring. Surely you would have seen something like that if you admired them so much."

"Perhaps," he pondered, returning her gaze, "sometimes it's easy to forget."

Any pre-tense that might have existed before was gone. Everything was finally on the table and they were able to see that between uncanny powers of perception, a longing for companionship, and a tendency for unpredictable tempers, perhaps they were not so different after all.

They were still standing almost an arms length from each other. As Valentina studied his face for recognition of what she had meant, she noticed little black specs of sand had settled on his sharp cheekbones. Without thinking, she moved to brush them away and had barely grazed his cheek when they were drawn away telekinetically. In a thunderstruck fascination she waved her hand, prompting the granules to weave through her fingers.

"How did you do that?" Pitch stared in bewilderment.

"I don't know,' she breathed. The sand settled in her palm. She could feel it tingle with an electric energy, calling to something deep within her. She could sense more of it coming from where Pitch stood. "I just…" In a single beckoning motion, Valentina pulled all of the residual nightmare sand that had made an unwelcome home among his hair and clothes. The resulting black cloud intensified, gathering in the cup of her two hands, and as it did, her feelings of astonishment gave way to something much more sinister.

* * *

Pitch relished in the sense of freedom he now felt. It was as though he could actually think clearly without being shrouded in a cloaking of malice. That wretched sand that he could never get rid of had plagued him for far too many years and was finally gone. He had meant to do something about it much sooner, but he hadn't the strength before, and when he did he forgot in the midst of more pressing matters. Oh, he was still the Boogeyman alright, just with a new sense of clarity. And in the eyes of the Boogeyman, Valentina's sudden affinity for dark magic was not only confounding, but concerning. For the Spirit of Love to have a command over fear, it went against the nature of who she was supposed to be.

"This isn't what I meant when I said to control your fear," he said in bemused hesitance. On one hand, he now had a concrete skill that he could help her hone. On the other, it presented a mystery that needed some answers. Keeping her anxieties under control was one challenge he would have looked forward to, but this… he wasn't sure how he felt about.

She continued to wield the crystallised nightmares with what Pitch noticed to be an entranced, power hungry look.

"Ok, you've shown off enough, give it back," he chastised impatiently, as thought he would a child.

But Valentina didn't stop. Instead she looked to him with a chilling smile. "Oh, my dear Nightmare King, now why would I want to do that?"

To his horror the colour began to drain from her face, turning her olive skin the colour of ash. Just like his.

No, this wasn't happening. He would not allow it. He might be all for frightening children, but he was no anarchist. If there was one thing six years of bitter introspection had taught him, it was that there had to be a balance. Therefore there had to be a spirit of love who still remembered what love was. If he let this continue he could take a well educated guess at the consequences. With more effort than he realised he would need, Pitch removed the nightmare sand from Valentina's control. She glared at him in rage. With a flick of his wrist he disposed of it.

"Give it back!" she screeched.

"Absolutely not," he refused calmly.

"You'll regret this," she threatened. Pitch was caught off guard by the dangerous flash of something alarming, something he hadn't seen in anyone but possibly himself; true malicious intent. Valentina prepared to attack by raising her hands out in front of her. Her palms began to glow and he reluctantly readied himself for a counter strike. He now realised he couldn't teach her how to use nightmares, it would destroy her before she'd master it. Suddenly the glowing dimmed and it was as though she no longer had the strength to keep her arms up. They sagged to her sides and her knees buckled. She dropped to the ground with a dull thud.

"Valentina!" He was overcome with concern and although he would never admit it aloud, he had become rather fond of the unpredictable and at times, infuriating young woman. At any rate, he did not want to see her hurt and rushed to her side. The deathly grey had disappeared from her skin, but it was still pale and dark shadows encircled her eyes. Her eyelids fluttered weakly as she came to.

"Valentina, my dear, talk to me," he urged, brushing the hair off her face with careful fingers. Her eyes gazed at him blankly as her brain most likely tried to make sense of the world again. Her brow furrowed in a frown.

"You sounded sincere that time," she rasped weakly.

Relief. She was going to be ok. "What?" he asked in a mixture of confusion and slight amusement.

"Whenever you say 'my dear' it's sarcastic. But not that time," she muttered with fatigue as she closed her eyes again. It made him stop to think. He _had_ been sincere, and he had been afraid when she'd begun to turn. Not for his sake, but for hers. He finally realised why there was the need to help this girl. From the moment he'd met her he'd felt an urge to care for her, protect her even. When she had broken down crying, it hadn't been a from letting her near that had made him most uncomfortable, it was the pain she felt that had pierced his soul. He realised with an internalised groan that he might actually have feelings to muddle through, and some of those feelings might just be for her. As he sat there on the ground next to her exhausted body, he decided to gather up the young woman in his arms for the second time that day. He pushed the curls that had fallen in front of her face back and stroked her chestnut hair soothingly.

"That's because that time it wasn't," he whispered.


	8. The Valentina substitute

**A/N:** I won't lie here, this chapter was a real pain to write. So much so that I wanted to scream every time I sat down at my computer. It's going to be awkward and clunky, especially the first half. Unfortunately there were certain marks that I needed to meet for everything to make sense later on, which has made me realise that I hate setting up a context! But one day, when I actually know how to write, I'll come back and fix it. I also feel like I need to give a shout out to my lovely followers and faves. I see you, and I appreciate the support!

 **Slang:**

Drongo = idiot

Carked it = died

 **Crossover Junkie:** Oh good! I'm glad you thought so, I don't want to be that predictable all the time. I've never seen Soul Music, but I found your sarcastic interpretation of the script hilarious. What I really want to address is your point on the personification of death. I feel like there definitely could be a reaper (or more). If the Guardians only represent a fraction of the spirits existing on earth (which I'm assuming, given that Bunny and Sandy tried to take guesses when Jack was chosen in the movie, plus there being Mother Nature) then there would have to be others that aren't necessarily concerned with the matters of childhood. Having a reaper would make perfect sense in that context. In fact you reminded me of the movie Death Takes a Holiday, and it's loose adaption, Meet Joe Black. I won't go into the synopsis, but it gives me grounds to believe a reaper is entirely possible in the Guardian's Universe. And the paper work regarding Jack's revival would indeed have been a MESS (my strange mind agrees).

* * *

"Phil! Making sure presents for sectors 3 and 4 are ready to go immediately after 1 and 2. No lagging, last year was almost disaster."

There were mere hours to go before the Pole's biggest night of the year was thrown in action, and the workshop was filled with frantic personnel trying to organise any last minute adjustments before the Santa Clause was on his way. North, despite the crippling deadline, was managing to keep an impossible operation running to time. If anything, he was in his element, working at the speed of light and energetically spitting out orders as needed.

The Guardians were gathered there with him at his request because what Tooth and Jack had suspected was indeed true. The Night-Mares were advancing rapidly but at this stage there was nothing that could be done. Their main focus was to make sure Christmas was a success and with the precarious position they were in regarding global child wellbeing, it made sense to have them at the ready in the possibility of a worst case scenario.

"DINGLE! STILL WAITING ON COOKIES!"

"Will someone get the bloke a cookie?!" repeated the tense Pooka, having never actually experienced the Pole during its last few hours before lift off. This time at least, it seemed Christmas was more important than Easter.

"I'm on it," announced Jack as he hopped down from his perch atop his freestanding staff. It wasn't like he had anything better to do. "Can't have our stoic leader running on low blood sugar." He winked at Tooth as he passed her, off to retrieve the cookies he'd stashed in his room - probably the reason why North was currently going without.

"You really are the back bone of this operation," she joked. As he strode off he flexed his biceps dramatically which were indistinguishable beneath the sleeves of his hoodie. Tooth laughed anyway.

Bunny glanced from her, to Jack's retreating figure though narrowed eyes. "What's up with you two?"

"Hmm? Oh nothing, he's just funny sometimes," Tooth giggled.

"Yeah. Hysterical." He was not convinced. Sandy shrugged, not quite sure what to make of it either.

Jack and Tooth had a tough time getting to the North Pole, and it was only thanks to the fairy's quick thinking that they made it at all. Tandem evaporative materialisation was not something she'd practiced recently but the circumstances were dire and she knew it was their only shot of getting there on time. They appeared about a mile away, but thankfully the wind wasn't overly strong (it wouldn't have obeyed Jack at all if it had been any stronger) and they were able to make the rest of the way supporting each other. Tooth could still fly, but it wasn't without effort. As such, she was now standing, rather than hovering as she usually would. It didn't agree with her one bit.

"You guys!" Jack was sprinting back to where they were gathered in front of the roaring fireplace.

"What? What is it?" Bunny demanded, assuming the worst.

He skidded to a halt in front of them. "You will not believe what I found."

"So tell us, ya drongo." With a slight frown at Bunny's impatience, Jack stepped aside to reveal a small, pink puff of… something.

"What's that?" Tooth asked in confusion.

"Hold on to your socks," he warned them. Before their eyes, the pink cloud transformed and took the form of someone they were not entirely prepared to speak to.

"No way," Bunny exclaimed, "what is she doing here?"

"Val?" Tooth pushed her way to the front of the clamour to better look at the Guardian of Love, or rather, her messenger.

"Yeah, it's me," the miniature translucent Valentina confirmed sadly.

"I got a question for you," Bunny interjected, "what the hell are you playing at?" His voice was a low growl, rather unbefitting of a rabbit.

"I know I don't deserve a second chance after what happened down here, but you need to let me explain."

Tooth didn't want Valentina to know just how hurt she'd been and steeled herself for whatever was about to be said.

"If you think you've still got our trust, you got another thing coming-"

"Bunny, enough," Tooth commanded, "let her speak." She was willing to hear Valentina out, but her tone was cold. "What is it?"

"Thank you, Tooth." She nodded slightly, aware that there was definitely tension between them. "So here's the thing, I'm still with you all, and I would never really accuse you of using me, I know you didn't. I was forced to lie otherwise I might have been in serious trouble."

"Yeah look, Val? Sorry, but right now we're having trouble knowing what to what to believe." Jack evaluated her with some contempt; He was still angry that she had managed to upset Tooth. "And the fact that you're still there with Pitch isn't a good look so if you'll excuse us, we have bigger problems-"

"No no, wait," she pleaded, "I'm not finished. Pitch took me down to his lair and in the time it took you all to find me, he tried to convince me that I was better off with him, that I was wasting my time with the Guardians. And while I managed to resist that manipulation, it did give me the idea to play along and gain his trust. My thoughts were that if I stayed, I would be able to keep an eye on him, give you intel from from the inside. But when you showed up there was nothing I could do other get you out of there as quickly as possible. Otherwise he might have suspected something was going on and who knows what would have happened at that stage. I wish I'd been able to tell you, I felt so terrible doing it."

"Oh my goodness, are you ok?" Tooth had abandoned her icy disposition in favour of concern. "I didn't realise."

"Good," Valentina grimaced sadly, "that was kind of the point. I'm fine, really. And it wasn't him that made me do it, it was all on me. Tooth, I'm so sorry, I know it was completely unforgivable and it was worse because I know you wanted us to be friends. Believe me, I want that too."

Really?" Tooth's eyes brightened in hope.

"I would never do anything to hurt you on purpose, I swear," Valentina promised, and the two shared a smile between them.

"Great, so I guess now that Tooth's forgiven her, everything goes back to normal," Bunny said bitingly, stepping to the forefront of the assembly. "Let's not forget she still made a deal with Pitch Black, of all people."

"I thought you said everything was a lie. It that true?" Jack asked her urgently.

"I'm afraid that part is," she replied solemnly, "at least he thinks so. I agreed to protect him from the Night-Mares, and in return he's teaching me how to control my fear. It was supposed to be my cover while I saw this through, now I'm not so sure about things. Don't worry about me, though, he wouldn't hurt me."

Sandy shook his head to himself and exhaled with a puff of his cheeks.

"He won't, Sandy, trust me on this. I know it hasn't been long, but I think there's more to him than any of us realised." She eventually noticed the looks of stricken panic upon each face. "What is it?"

"Sounds like you're the one who's been mistaken." Bunny informed her evenly, taking no delight in this revelation. "You don't simply make a deal with Pitch Black and treat it like something you might go through with if you feel like it. What ever you promised each other is binding. It's… you're indebted to each other. "

Her eyes flashed angrily for a moment. "Really," was all she replied flatly.

"Val, you have you be really careful. Whatever it is you're doing could have serious consequences," Tooth warned, " Pitch might not be as powerful as he used to be, but he does still know a few tricks to give him an edge. If he finds out what you're doing…"

"Remember who's side you're supposed to be on now?" Bunny advised with a scowl.

Valentina crossed her arms and looked pointedly at him. "I don't want to be on anyone's side, I want to help him. He needs believers just like you do. Don't you think that maybe he was supposed to be a Guardian all this time?"

"Yes he was, but that was a long time ago," Tooth informed her sadly, "North tried to convince Pitch to join us, but he was so set in his ways that he was convinced being feared was the same as being believed in. He turned his back on us and everything we stood for in favour of scare tactics. Val, he has done some truly awful things. He's terrorised not only children, but adults as well."

"Isn't that just the nature of fear though?" she argued.

"I'm not talking about just being frightened by things that go bump in the night. Do you know of the Witch Hunts that took place between the fifteenth and eighteenth centuries?"

"I know of them, but I wasn't exactly around at the time…" Valentina groaned in realisation, "am I about to get a history lesson?"

"Oh yes," said Tooth sternly, "across Europe, and then America when it was colonised in the seventeenth century, there were witch hunts taking place to persecute people for committing crimes believed to be witchcraft and sorcery. Of course, you and I know that humans don't possess magic, but when they began looking for explanations to happenings that they couldn't understand, Pitch spread rumours that some did. Adults can't usually see Pitch but they can hear him, and those rumours, that nonsense, caused countless innocent people to be burned at the stake."

Valentina stared at Tooth in horror. "No, that can't be true," she gasped.

"He didn't care about it either," Bunny added, "'cause for him fear means power. We tried to convince him to use his powers for good but greed blinded him. Even Sandy thought once that perhaps Pitch could change, but he also learned that the guy is rotten to core." Sandy nodded in solemn agreement. "I know your job is to try and see the best in people but there are just some that you'll never find good in. Pitch is, and always has been, irredeemable."

She looked aghast with the knowledge of such an ugly truth and was shaking her head in denial. "He's not like that, not from what I've seen."

The holographic image of Valentina wavered slightly as a yeti practically steamrolled past, most likely on his way to tend to yet another glitch.

"I'm sorry, but those are the facts," Tooth said, providing little comfort to her aggrieved friend.

Their conversation was interrupted as the control station opposite the fire place, across the mezzanine, began pinging rapidly, spewing out meter after meter of receipt paper.

"Wait, where's North?" Bunny spun about, realising the mountain man had disappeared from the globe room. Jack raced over to see what the disturbance was. He hunched over and picked up the lengths, scanning what was printed as he went. When he reached the dispenser it had finally stopped running and he froze with the bundle in his arms as he read what it said.

"Uh oh." He turned around to face his fellow anxious Guardians. Behind him the lights on the globe flickered precariously as even more went out across an already dim landscape. "Somebody find North right now," he ordered.

* * *

"Maybe the machine's just carked it," Bunny offered, hoping against hope.

"No, Naughty List is never wrong," North muttered as he looked through the countless names that had been added in the last ten minutes. "Ivan Lewinsky, Genevieve Short, Fatima Aly, Cinzia Perino… Jake, Enya, Abdul, Katelyn… so many in such short time."

The Guardians peered over his shoulders at the list, at least they tried to given his height.

"It's got to be because of the Night-Mares, right?" Tooth posed to the group. Sandy replied with flashing symbols, eager to contribute to the discussion.

"Yeah you said it Sandy," agreed Bunny, who was the only one to understand, "the Night-Mares evoke fear, not rebellion. Something else has to be at play here. Val, what do you know about the Night-Mares?"

"Not much, they're aggressive though. They tried to attack us before they escaped.

"Us? You mean you and Pitch."

"Yes, he wasn't kidding when he said he had nothing to do with it. They're just as dangerous to him as they are to us."

"Ok, you can quit playing the devil's advocate," he said shortly, earning him a scowl from Valentina.

"Well you asked…"

"What does this mean for those kids then," wondered Jack aloud.

North squared his shoulders, looking more determined than ever but decidedly worse for wear. In fact they all were. These disruptions amongst the children had lost them many believers across the globe and they were starting to suffer for it.

"It means Christmas is only way to bring them back. For once," North brushed off his tattooed forearm bearing the word 'naughty', "we are wiping clean the slate, because forgiveness is sometimes more valuable than punishment."

He turned to face the Guardians in yet another address, except this time he needed a favour.

"If this goes well, we have shot at saving the day. But I do not think I can do alone this time. I'm afraid I must ask for your help, if you would all be so kind."

"You got it," pledged Jack. North had become like a father figure to him, and he would have done anything to repay him for the warm reception he'd felt since becoming a Guardian.

"I'm in." The guardians looked abruptly at the Valentina substitute. "I want to make up for what I did, and even if none of you ever forgive me I'll at least feel better knowing that I tried to help."

"Val, of course we forgive you." North had been given a run down of the situation and he was of the opinion that not only did Valentina make the right choice, but she had done so with tremendous courage. "You did what you had to do, and I am proud you managed to think so quickly. Is me who owes you apology for putting you in danger."

"It wasn't ideal," she agreed, "but I'm going to make this work."

Bunny sighed, still apprehensive about whether Valentina could be trusted, but in keeping with the atmosphere of understanding he finally conceded. "Look, as long as it doesn't wound your pride too badly, mate," Bunny quipped before agreeing on behalf of the group. "Yeah, we're in."

There were nods of approval all around, and in the spirit of camaraderie their feelings of doubt were dispelled just a little.

"How quickly can you get here," Tooth asked Valentina.

"Give me an hour. I won't let you guys down." With a grateful smile, the Guardian of Love disappeared into thin air, leaving the rest of them to prepare for whatever troubles awaited them outside as Christmas Eve drew to a close.

* * *

Hundreds of miles away Valentina sat in her cavern, utterly relieved that the Guardians had accepted her apology. As she got to her feet, ready to make a move, she realised with a start that black nightmare sand dusted every surface around her. Her memories from earlier that day flooded back to her; Curiosity had gotten the better of her. Despite Pitch adamantly refusing to teach her how to wield the stuff for her own sake, she trawled various passages picking up discarded nightmare sand like a magnet, and returned to practice with it in secret. It had a power unlike anything she'd ever known and she hungered for it. There was no reason why she should have this control and yet she did. But did she still have control of herself? There was a persistent side effect; after prolonged use she would black out, being unable to recall anything she said or did. At least, she did things according to Pitch, who was rather disconcerted that she had an aptitude for nightmares.

She had been in the middle of honing her skills when Cupid demanded her attention, having found the Guardians at long last. Even with the prospect of earning back their trust, she had felt noticeably irate, and her mood was not improved by the cognisance of Pitch's trickery.

If she was going to help the Guardians she needed to leave now, there was just the matter of a certain spirit to take care of. As she walked out, her foot accidentally kicked a small bottle, similar to those she usually kept L'amour in. It skidded away with a clink and she went to pick it up. As she examined it, she noticed the contents had the same pearlescent quality that L'amour usually did. But unlike her potion, which was usually a pastel pink, the stark contrast lay in its deep red colouring. Like blood. She shivered at the comparison and although she had no idea where it had come from, something compelled her to pocket it.

Valentina strode defiantly into the subterranean globe room, having more than a bone to pick with it's owner. Finding it empty she called him.

"Pitch! Get out here, I've got something to say to you."

She was answered by a resounding chuckle that came from nowhere and flinched slightly when she realised he had appeared next to her without a sound.

"So demanding," he tisked. "Although," he eyed her up and down with a smirk, "confidence looks good on you. Obviously you're feeling better?"

"Spectacular. Don't distract me."

Pitch chuckled once again in amusement at seeing her flustered. "Forgive me. Please continue."

"You lied to me," she spat, getting right to the point.

"My dear, why on earth would I do that?" His tone was even, yet to register the gravity of what she was about to accuse him of.

"Our deal is binding." It wasn't a question. "There's some fine print you neglected to mention. How much so?"

He laughed with a mirthlessness that caught her off guard. "Did you enjoy your little reunion with your friends?"

Valentina stared at him incredulously. "You're spying on me? I don't believe-"

"As I have mentioned time and time again, my dear, your fears are so easily accessible to me I really don't know why you would bother keeping secrets." His tone had become dangerously cold. 'It's rather unwise if I can't help but overhear them, don't you think?"

"Just tell me what our deal really means," she growled.

"When I broker a deal with someone, they're indebted to me until I believe it to be an equal exchange because, ordinarily, they are repaying me. The consequence for breaking that contract is to be cursed with only the most terrifying waking nightmares for as long as they live."

Valentina had to stop herself from trembling, having been given a glimpse what her future could hold if Pitch proved to be the merciless tyrant the Guardians tried to warn her of.

"However," he continued more softly, "that won't be any of your concern. What you failed to relay to the wonderful Guardians is that instead not only did I require something of you, but you were the one to finalise it."

"I dont understand."

"I asked for your assistance first. It is me who is truly indebted to you. As well as this, if I recall correctly it was you who struck the deal in the end, therefore my usual conditions are null and void. Although in the spirit of mutual agreements, it's always polite to hold up your end of the bargain."

"Why didn't you tell me this? You talk about keeping secrets-"

"Withholding information is not the same as lying and I did it because I didn't think it would be important when it's not even relevant. Although it was stupid of me to think the Guardians wouldn't use it to perpetuate their eternal vendetta against me!" By this stage Pitch was struggling to keep his temper under control. "And you're hardly one to preach about the virtues of honesty. What were planning to do, win me over and then stab me in the back while I looked away?"

"Fine, you want the truth? That's exactly what I had planned. I was going to turn you over eventually because I didn't trust you from the second I saw you. But then you showed me that fear doesn't have to be the enemy. You helped me, and for a moment I thought they were wrong, because I actually saw something good in you," she cried.

"You did?" His anger appeared to subside at her confounding confession.

"I did. Until heard about your hand in the witch hunts." She glared at him contemptuously and he faltered, casting his eyes down in anguish. "What about all those people who suffered, Pitch? They were _murdered_ for no reason."

"I never told them to start burning people! It's not my fault humans are so superstitiously stupid. But yes, of course I regret doing it. If that's what you really want to hear, then fine. I should never have tried to meddle so much in their affairs."

"Yeah, and I can tell you right now that you made a terrible mistake when you rejected their offer to be a Guardian. You could have been so much more than this." She gestured to their surroundings, the palace of a fallen king.

"I will admit a lot of things to you, my dear, but admitting that the Guardians were right is not one of them. I will always despise them for what they did to me, and the Man in the Moon for his betrayal. I will always hate them with every fibre of my being," he spat unforgivingly. He had expected some snarky remark in return, but Valentina was uncharacteristically quiet. "Well I suppose now that I've offended you you'll fly back home to North and his team of imbeciles," he baited. Still nothing.

It wasn't that Valentina had nothing to say, it was rather she couldn't. Something strange was happening to her. Her head spun in a rush as one word rang in her ears over and over. _Hate_.

Pitch realised that she'd gone pale again and noticed that her gaze was unfocused. "Valentina?" He stumbled over to her, heart pounding in a panic with a sick realisation. "My dear, I'm sorry. Don't disappear on me again!"

Whatever it was that had possessed her seemed to have relinquished its hold. As though waking from a light sleep, she blinked and gazed around in confusion. "What happened?" she asked in a daze.

He sighed in relief. "It was like before. You were beginning to lose yourself, but not quite this time," he explained. His relief was short lived, however, when he noticed black markings, like soot on her hands. "Valentina," he grabbed her by the wrist to closer examine it, "where did you find nightmare sand?"

She glanced shiftily around looking for an exit. "I have to go," she said abruptly.

Pitch's brow furrowed in confusion. "Go where? Have you been using my nightmares? What have you done?" He asked these questions in a rapid, urgent fire.

"I promised I would help save Christmas." He was right, Valentina realised, now having her wits about her. There was no point in keeping secrets. "And yes, I found some of the sand, I wanted to practice." She wrenched her hand out of his grasp. "Now if you'll excuse me."

"If you think I would let you go out there after-"

"I'm not your prisoner Pitch, I'm here by my own free will. I am doing this and I am coming back. Just trust that I will, that's all I ask." Without another word she departed the lair, leaving Pitch in a despair that was unbeknown to her.

"That's not what I meant!" he called desperately after her. Pitch had seen her change again, even if only for a brief moment, and now he was certain she had been foolish enough to tamper with his nightmares after he'd warned her not to. He suspected now, with the Night-Mares on a rampage, she was flying right into danger and it would only be a matter of time before she took others down with her. If he went after her, there was a chance the Guardians would take the opportunity to end him then and there. But if he let her go… he didn't want to think what might happen.

Pitch now faced one of the most challenging decisions he'd ever had to make and cursed his fondness of the girl. Did he go, or did he stay?


	9. One tiny detail

**A/N:**

 **Slang:**

Scorcher = A _really_ hot day

Court = I think in some places this might be referred to as a culdesac? It's just a dead-end street, usually rounded off to fit most cars turning circles.

 **Crossover Junkie:** No way! What are the odds? I hope you're having a smashing time and the heatwave isn't getting to you. I don't think I've ever encountered an annoying yankee, but I'm sure you will be fine. If you really want to fit in, wear your flip-flops at all times and only refer to them as thongs. Enjoy! You know, I love that point in the movie because it's the first and only time Pitch allows himself to be vulnerable. I think that's what first captivated my attention. And I really like that: a human without love would be rare indeed.

* * *

Valentina knew she'd been cutting it fine to get to the North Pole on time, but hadn't realised it would be with only an hour to spare; the journey ended up being longer than she had allowed for. Upon her arrival she'd expected to be swept away by an all out pandemonium in anticipation of the clock counting down, but was perplexed to find the globe room floor mostly empty. The exceptions being three yetis attending to the control booth, pressing various buttons and typing in numbers.

For all it's tranquility though, somebody did remain. Unexpectedly, she was met with a fierce hug from Tooth that nearly knocked the wind out of her.

"You're here! You're ok!" the fairy cried out, squeezing Valentina affectionately. She returned it warmly before breaking away, comforted to know there was still someone that wasn't entirely displeased with her.

"Are you kidding, I couldn't stay away," she laughed.

"How did you get out, did Pitch try and stop you?" Tooth's brow was creased with worry, almost as though she expected the Boogeyman to leap out from the shadows and catch them by surprise. Granted, it wouldn't be the first time.

"No, we have an understanding. I chose to be there and I can choose to leave. Our deal still stands, but don't worry, apparently I'm exempt from his usual bargaining chips. If he doesn't like me bring here, well…" Valentina gave a nonchalant shrug. She didn't want to mention his intentions of disallowing her participation to Tooth, there was enough turbulence as it was and she didn't need her friend's concern for something that could be dealt with later. "I'll handle it. He knows everything about what I was planning now anyway."

Tooth exclaimed softly, searching her for any evidence of distress. "Did he hurt you?" she asked with a grave seriousness.

"What? No, of course not. I mean he was angry, but…" Valentina felt a drop in the pit of her stomach as guilt settled heavily upon her conscience, "…I think he felt betrayed."

Tooth brought a hand under her chin in thoughtful consideration. "That's strange. I would have expected him to lash out somehow. He's never relinquished the upper hand without a fight."

Despite their argument before she left (from which no one had actually emerged victorious), Valentina felt herself overcome with the need to defend the Boogeyman. "You know, at first I might have agreed, but he's not at all what I thought he was. Tooth, there is something good in him. I've seen it. He's remorseful, considerate. He's shown concern for me, what kind of monster could do that?" As Valentina tried to explain the enigma she had come to know, she became more convinced that the Guardians had a rather flawed perception of their nemesis. "When I confronted him about the witch hunts he said he regretted it, truly. I don't think he was lying."

Tooth frowned, exposing her misgivings. "I hear you, it just doesn't fit what I know of him. Whatever he's doing now is going against centuries of malice and destruction. People don't change easily, least of all someone like him." Tooth sighed. "I believe that he might have shown you some sort of kindness, but I've dealt with him for too long to be able to trust that he actually has good intentions for anyone else."

"No," Valentina agreed half-heartedly, "you're probably right." She understood the reasons for Tooth's trepidation, and even though her friend was showing immense patience by listening to her ramblings of someone she had every right to detest, she doubted Tooth's sympathies would stretch much further. Alternatively, Valentina was also able to discern the reason for Pitch's apparent uncharacteristic behaviour. She hadn't been wrong in saying he was capable of caring about someone other than himself. However, although he had been kind to her, Tooth was right, he would probably only do so for her. When she peered into his heart and saw the desires of the Nightmare King, at first she had only seen a begging for an end to his loneliness. But as they grew closer, she had observed that longing evolve. Eventually his desire for companionship had found a tangible fixation point: Her. When she became cognisant of his affections (and she could guess they would have been incredibly frustrating for Pitch to work through), she swore to herself that she would never confront him about it. He was too proud, she thought, to not become scornful of her prying. That, and she would have to deal with the possibility that she might have felt the same.

"I am going back though," Valentina informed Tooth firmly, not to be swayed in her decision to finish what she started.

Seeing the air of determination about her, Tooth made no objections. "I'm sure you know what you're doing. Just promise me you're being careful, he can be pretty unpredictable."

She gave the fairy a mischievous smile. "Would you believe me if I said I'm even more so?"

"Yes," Tooth nodded with a laugh, "I think I would. Now we need to go, it's almost midnight." She grabbed her by the hand and steered her toward the edge of the mezzanine.

"Oh yeah, where is everyone?" Valentina wondered, glancing around the empty space.

"They're all ready downstairs, and I think the presents should be just about loaded on to the sleigh." Tooth's wings began to flutter and she rose off the ground, but her ascent was wobbly and appeared to require a great deal of exertion, Valentina realised.

"Are you ok? You don't look so good."

"It's the kids," Tooth pointed to the globe, which looked bleak and desolate without its usual abundance of twinkling lights, "we've all sort of taken a hit since the Night-Mares got loose."

Valentina shot her a look of bewilderment. "Really? I feel fine."

Tooth smiled at her sadly. "You can't loose believers you've never had. It happened to Jack too. When we last began to lose our powers he was fine for the most part. This time he hasn't been so lucky."

Although Valentina knew what Tooth was saying was true and not intended to be a jab at her invisible status, it was still a bitter reminder of her own waking nightmare.

"You're the strongest one of us now, and we're going to need anything you've got. Don't let this be the night you underestimate yourself," Tooth encouraged her. Valentina nodded with a gulp and together they descended through the void, down to the workshop. "Oh, and one more thing," she added, "don't mention Pitch to the others."

* * *

"Val! Glad you could join us," North called in salutations as he slipped on his coat. "Get in, we have no time to lose."

Valentina cocked her head to the side as she assessed their travel arrangements. The sack of presents almost took up the entire sleigh, leaving very little standing room. Already Bunny, Sandy and Jack were invading each other's personal space and small fits of bickering ensued.

"Alright, I guess," she shrugged and hopped aboard anyway with Tooth hot on her heels. The others noticed her arrival curtly. Sandy was the more welcoming of the three, but Bunny could not seem to shake his suspicions and regarded her with a narrow gaze.

"You took your time," he said coolly.

"I got caught up. It looks like I just made it though, so no harm done," she replied brightly.

Bunny scoffed. "Yeah, we'll see."

After a countdown to midnight that would have been more far more thrilling had it not been dampened by a general unease, the sleigh was pulled through its launch tunnels by North's eight reindeer, still going strong despite the weakened condition the Guardians were in. With Christmas having finally begun, they dashed away into the night.

Their first stop was New Zealand. Although they quickly dropped presents to other smaller pacific islands, this was the first instance where they had to actually disembark the sleigh. In the capital of Wellington the streets were quiet, allowing them to land inconspicuously in a nearby park. They all more or less tumbled out on to the grass, stretching after being cramped up just a bit too long.

Wasting no time, North reached into the red sack and tossed five smaller bags at each of them.

"Delivering presents is simple. The bag knows present needed for each child. When you reach in and find one, it will be correct. Takes care of mistakes so job can be done quickly, yes?" he explained enthusiastically, waving a sword around much too freely for the fact that it had a sharp blade. But he could be forgiven, it was his night and to say he was excited would be an understatement. The same could not be said for the rest of them, experiencing a tension in their dynamic that North was oblivious to. Valentina had a sinking feeling she was to blame. Swallowing her pride, she turned to speak to Bunny, Jack and Sandy.

"I know you guys don't trust me, and I am really sorry that things have become so messed up. But please believe me when I say that I am on your side and that I was just trying to get to the bottom of all this. I might have some opinions you don't agree with but I'm here to help in any way I can. Bunny, I swore to you I would do everything in my power to make you proud, and you have no idea how much your support meant to me. Please, do you think you could give me another chance?" She was careful not to reference Pitch explicitly, like Tooth advised, and she was glad she didn't.

While Sandy had given her a kind nod of approval, the pooka softened ever so slightly and instead of arguing, sighed wearily. "I'm sorry too, I suppose you did what you had to." He also refused to be explicit. "Doesn't mean I agree. You just have to understand that we're hanging on by a thread here. We need this win."

"I know," she assured him. "Jack, you're angry at me because you care so much about Tooth and I get that, but-"

"Woah, hang on," he cut her off with eyes wide, glancing over his shoulder at the unsuspecting fairy. "Do you mind?" he pleaded in a harsh whisper.

She couldn't help but laugh at his panicked state. "Seriously?" She bit back a snicker and chewed a finger in amusement at the frost spirit.

"Is that what this is about?" The pooka slapped a paw to his forehead. "Jeez, I though there was something weird going on with you two."

"It's nothing," he denied a bit too forcefully, then to Valentina he grumbled, "thanks, now I'm never gonna hear the end of it."

"Nah, never." Bunny rubbed his paws together, beside himself with glee. It might have been Christmas, but for him, Easter had come early.

"Ignore him, Jack," Valentina laughed, "and don't worry, she likes you too. Although I think she's going to kill me for telling you that."

He grabbed her shoulder and pulled her closer to whisper as though it were life or death. "Did she say that?"

Valentina tapped the side of her nose with a smile. "Trust me, I always know." She heard him chuckle to himself and thought she could spy him blushing slightly in the dim light. "Think you can forgive me?" she asked hopefully.

Jack nodded with an amicable one armed hug. "Yeah, you're alright Val. I don't have you figured out yet, but you're alright."

"Well, you'd be the first if you did," she dead-panned.

"Are we ready?" North called to them jubilantly. With their bags in hand they replied with a newfound enthusiasm. Having a sense of common ground had reenergised them and the Guardians were rearing to go.

"Just remind me," Jack interrupted, "we're doing this quickly, right?"

"As fast as possible," North clarified informatively before catching sight of Jack's mischievous grin. Beneath his white beard, his lips curled into a smile. "Ah…"

Jack elbowed Bunny. "Bet I can get more presents out than you."

"You reckon?" the Pooka laughed humourlessly. "Mate, I'd like to see you try."

North chortled at their bravado. "Please, you are all dealing with expert."

"It's a race? Oh, I'm definitely going to be faster than all of you," Valentina chimed.

"I don't think so," Tooth interjected with a smirk.

"And what makes you so sure?" Jack asked her with a cocky grin.

"Because Sandy's already beaten you to it," she said simply.

They ceased their trash-talk and looked up to find the Sandman speeding off into the distance with a cheery smile and a smug little wave, leaving them all well and truly in the dust. With cries of outrage they scrambled after him.

"He's bolted, that bloody cheat!" Bunny yelled as they ran.

The Guardians, by nature, were all highly competitive, and it wasn't long before they had raced all over town, leaving something for each child to find the next morning. As they traversed through the country and then onto the island continent of Australia, the stakes were raised. North eventually employed the use of his sleigh full-time, happily kicking them out when they reached a new destination. From the high rise apartments and canal-side homes of the Gold Coast, all the way down the east coast to reach the sprawling suburbs of Melbourne, the banter continued.

"Just give up, mate, I'm ahead by a long shot and I'm on home turf," Bunny called to Jack as he disappeared down one hole and reappeared a few houses away. The winter spirit flew to catch up, launching himself off trees and parked cars.

"If it wasn't so hot, you would be eating my dirt right now," Jack complained. None of them had ever been above petty tricks to slow their opponents down, and he'd tried to lay a harmless trap - a slip'n'slide of icy road - for the rabbit as he tore down a street, but found that his frost simply melted into a puddle with the bitumen still warm from the heat of the day.

"Welcome to my world," Bunny said smugly. "Shame you're not feeling too frosty, I reckon they'd thank you. These poor buggers are gonna be in for a scorcher tomorrow."

Meanwhile, the others were on a roll. Tooth, with her experience in leaving money for children, found the giving of gifts a piece of cake. So quick was she, that North was almost beaten at his own job, finding several trees already abundant with gifts, much to his annoyance. Sandy and Valentina, on the other hand, were engaged in a friendly competition, racing one and other on opposite sides of each street to see who could get through their line of houses the quickest. As the night went on and they reached more children, they had begun to feel better, stronger. Believed in. Strangely though, they were yet to run into any particular trouble with the Night-Mares. It was tough to determine if that was promising or if there was something more menacing afoot to be weary of.

"Really, again?" Valentina cried in dismay when she found Sandy with his bag slung casually over his shoulder, waiting after another round. "How are you doing this?"

The dreamweaver just shrugged with a smirk.

"Ok, this time I'm getting a head start," she said, and was just about to fly off again, when she sensed that something wasn't quite right. She remained rooted to the spot, trying to source the disturbance. Sandy noticed and approached with a large question mark suspended above his head.

"I don't know," she replied, "I've got a strange feeling."

They had found themselves in a court, with houses facing in toward the circular dead-end. As she scanned the facades of each one, she zeroed in on a single story, weatherboarded house, with a well manicured front lawn. As she stared at it, she felt something from inside it emitting an energy that beckoned her closer. In a trace-like state she gravitated towards it. Sandy followed, trying to steal her attention by waving a hand in her face. But she took no notice, completely entranced by the calling. Across the yard she walked, rounding the side of the house and stopping in front of a window that looked into the room of a child. There, she found what she sought.

"Thomas, I'm not going to ask again, it's two in the morning. Go to bed or you won't find any presents from Santa tomorrow." A mother, who spoke with an accented twang similar to Bunny's (though not quite as pronounced), was scolding her son for still being awake on Christmas Eve, but this troublesome child would not have a bar of her reprimand.

"No! I'm not tired," he all but yelled at his exhausted mother, throwing a fit. "You can't tell me what to do!"

"Oh yes I can." She picked up the boy, who looked to be about five, and tried to place him in his bed. But Thomas refused to go quietly and kicked out at the poor woman violently, screaming as he did so. Ordinarily, Valentina would have been horrified that one child could be so beastly, but she was far more engrossed by the seething rage that he exuded, which captivated something sinister within her.

Sandy was beside her, observing the astounding display with a frown. He was ready to knock the child out with one of his dreams, but a rustling in the bushes distracted him. He glanced around behind them to find nothing out of the ordinary. Despite a growing unease, he focused on the matter at hand just in time to hear the boy's enraged out-burst.

"No! No you can't! I won't. I hate you! I HATE YOU!" he wailed. His mother looked incredibly hurt by his irrational remarks and tired from interrupted sleep. That was enough, thought Sandy. He sent a golden ribbon of sand into the room which hit the boy instantly. He tired quickly and within a minute he had settled into bed, much to the bemusement of his mother, still rubbing her hip from where she'd been kicked. With her child finally asleep, she clumsily slapped the light switch off and closed the door, yawning as she left.

The issue had been resolved for the most part, and Sandy made to leave but realised Valentina would not budge. Her hand was pressed up against the pane, her nose mere inches form the glass, and there was a dark expression on her face that unsettled him. He tugged her away from the window and she followed, but in a daze, not quite her self anymore. The further they away from the house they got, the more she seemed to return to normal. Sandy placed his hands on his hips and stared up at her to interrogate.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what that was," she said, shaking her head slightly as though trying to clear it of fogginess. He grimaced in concern.

"I'm fine, really. Come on we've still got plenty of work to do," she pressed.

In reality, Valentina was not fine, and she knew more than she was letting on. The boy's outburst had triggered a reaction that she'd had to fight consciously against. The same one, she now realised, that had consumed her before she'd left Pitch. Only this time, having emerged on the other side without slipping away entirely, she was able to retain her awareness and her memories. This thing inside her hungered for that loathing, that hatred she witnessed. It was like a drug, the more she got, the more she needed. She only hoped that she could restrain herself long enough to get through the the next twenty or so hours. She was already skating on the thin ice of their trust. Somehow, she didn't think she'd make it, and ignoring the problem wasn't going to make it any easier.

"Sandy?"

The dream weaver halted and turned around to face her.

"Maybe I'm not so great," she said, wringing her hands anxiously. Truly confused, Sandy's question mark had returned, flashing incessantly in need of some answers.

"Whatever happens tonight, please don't think poorly of me," she pleaded. In uncertainty he held one of her hands in both of his and patted it comfortingly, not sure what to make of her strange confession.

Down the road, the rest of their assembly had appeared, and the Sandman was ever so grateful to see them.

"There they are!" North announced to the others when he spotted them under the cold, white illumination of the singular streetlight. They hurried to meet each other. "What are you waiting for? We have many houses left."

Sandy tried to explain as best he could that something was wrong with Valentina and that he was worried about her. North eyed her with some trepidation.

"Val, how are you feeling?" he called over to her.

"Um, fine. I think."

North wasn't the least bit convinced. She was rubbing her forehead and her brow was creased in what looked like frustration. What they couldn't see was what Valentina was being awoken to: A world where only the most bitter, resentful feelings existed. She was fine-tuned to receive hatred of children who shouldn't have known such contempt, resentment that infested their dreams and destroyed their good thoughts. This was definitely something new, and in retrospect she couldn't help but think that perhaps she should have heeded Pitch's warning. She wanted more, needed more. Resisting the pull was futile, but a small, distant voice of reason told her that she had to stay grounded somehow, thus her panic at the thought of once again losing control increased tenfold. Through her mind's upheaval, she was cognisant of one thing; they were being watched. She felt a foreboding pickling on the back of her neck.

"She's not fine," Valentina heard Tooth decide, and felt hands leading her away from where she stood. It was as though she wasn't quite connected to her own body. She was aware but not present and in a disassociated stupor, realised that they were no longer alone.

Night-Mares appeared from out of the shadows, racing into the open court and encircling the group. There was nowhere to run and their only exit from the dead-end was blocked. The Night-Mares were just as aggressive as ever. They separated Valentina from Tooth, dragging her away and swarming relentlessly around the confused spirit.

"No! Leave her alone," the fairy screamed and fought the beasts off her friend, armed with only her dagger and a fierce protectiveness. The others raced to her aid and attacked the dark horses with as much effort as they could muster. Although they were able to destroy most of them, it was to no avail, the damage was done. As the remaining few dispersed, the Guardians got their first good look at the monster that stood in the Guardian of Love's place.

* * *

Power. Intoxicating, electrifying power coursed through Valentina's veins, sizzling at her fingertips. Except, she wasn't Valentina. Not anymore. That mess of a girl was gone. She felt this was her true form, what she was supposed to be all along.

"Val!"

She was made aware of the fact that she had an audience, something momentarily forgotten in her euphoria. The fairy had been the first to wail that name.

"Don't call me that," she spat in detestation. Examining the group before her, it was as though she was seeing the Guardians for the first time. Beloved and believed, they had everything she'd ever desired, and she despised each of them for it. She was filled with jealousy, wanting nothing more than to shatter their hopes into tiny, irreparable pieces. It had taken until now for her to see that while she had been forced to suffer though an eternity of isolation and ingratitude, these glorified spirits were worshiped by the world, with little care for anyone else until they required something.

"Such a shame," she began threateningly, "that all your efforts tonight will go to waste."

The rabbit riled up instantly. "What the bloody hell is going on?" he demanded. "I thought you were helping us!"

"You thought." She chuckled mirthlessly. "Yes, you all assume a lot, don't you? Take it for granted that every being under the sun is subject to your fanciful whims. Well, I am done being just another of the Man in the Moon's henchmen."

"Val, you don't mean that," the white haired boy cried, "what's wrong with her?"

"What did I say about that name?" she screeched.

"It's not her, it's not Val," the fairy assured the others. "It can't be."

"The little bird is right," she agreed with a wicked grin. With a commanding wave of her hand, the black sand of Night-Mares thought to be destroyed swirled and reformed into the terrifying horses, under the command of a new mistress.

"You're mine now," she whispered to the two nickering mares, petting their muzzles as they nudged her.

"What are you, the new Pitch?" the oaf of a rabbit dared to ask.

"Oh no, I'm so much more than that. Do you really still think he's the one behind all this?" she sneered.

"And you are?" the rabbit yelled, starting toward her. He drew to his full hight, and would have been intimidating to anyone else, but not her.

"No, but I'll gladly take it from here," she smiled venomously. Her line of vision shifted suddenly as something caught her eye. A little person ambled across the front lawn of the weatherboarded house she spied into earlier. The boy called Thomas had been roused despite the dreamweaver's efforts.

"Oh dear," she exclaimed in mock dismay, "what have you all done? Awoken a child on Christmas, how negligent."

Thomas rubbed sleep from his eyes and blinked at the strange scene. "I heard voices shouting," he grumbled tiredly.

The Guardians exchanged quick, remorseful looks and Jack was the first to approach him, crouching to match his height. "Hey, kid. We're really sorry we woke you, but you should be in bed, not out here."

"Not tired," he refuted with the stubbornness of a mule, and crossed his arms over his chest with a huff.

"Sure you're not," he sighed. "Okay, you see that guy over there in the red?" The frost spirit pointed to North. "That's Santa Clause and he's working really hard to give all children their presents tonight. That includes you too, buddy, but it only works if you're in bed and asleep," he explained in a rush, trying to get him out of the vicinity as quickly as possible.

Thomas' eyes lit up when he realised just who North was. "Santa?" he breathed. "That's Santa? I-" The boy was interrupted as a Night-Mare galloped past and knocked him off his feet.

The Guardians looked past him to find her glowering at the interaction. She wiggled her fingers with a devious raise of her eyebrow, informing them that it was she who had commanded the horse to run.

"I..." From the ground where he sat, Thomas' impression of enchantment turned to one of disgust. "I... I hate Santa Clause!" he spat at the big man. She observed with mirth the instant effect this utterance had. North looked completely shocked, as though he'd been slapped in the face. As the scene unfolded, a hypothesis formed in her mind. Perhaps, just maybe, there was a chance the boy would believe in her instead. He only needed a hint of persuasion…

"Where did he go?" Thomas wondered without any real urgency.

An arrow materialised in her hand as she summoned it from from her quiver. Retrieving the bottle of blood-red potion from her person, she doused the weapon with some of its contents.

"He doesn't believe in North anymore!" the fairy cried and with a horrified gasp, noticed her taking aim at the innocent boy.

"On Christmas Eve too!" she cackled. "How terribly awful, that simply won't do."

"No, it won't," said a voice from the shadows.

The Guardians gaped at Pitch Black with a mixture of fear and loathing. He proceeded calmly, not intending to spook them, although really, he wouldn't be surprised if they overreacted. But he wasn't there to spite them, not today at least.

"Pitch!" North roared in a rage, "You have stooped too low this time." He raised both swords threateningly, daring the Boogeyman to come any closer. "You will not ruin Christmas, I will not allow!"

"Oh, I would, if I truly wanted to. But you're quite right," he sneered, "I couldn't care less about your pathetic little endeavours this evening. That's not why I'm here."

"Pitch Black, just who I wanted to see," Valentina beckoned, still holding the bow and arrow aloft. He maintained an even gait as he approached her, but could hardly believe his eyes. This woman, if she could be called that, was but a shell of the Valentina he knew. She bore a slight resemblance in appearance beneath cold eyes and ashen skin, but the warmth of her fiery personality ceased to exist within this thing that pulsated with the intention of grievous harm. He wanted so badly to do something, anything that would bring her back, but her potential for instability called for caution.

"What did I tell you, he's turned her against us. We should never have trusted her!" The pooka raised his boomerangs, taking aim at the two foreboding figures.

Pitch rolled his eyes in exasperation and failed to bite back the snide remarks on the tip of tongue. "Rabbit, do something intelligent for the first time in your life and refrain from throwing those things," he snapped. He turned his attention back to the contemptuous demon in front of him and was aware that the unsuspecting boy was in immediate danger.

"Valentina. Might I ask you to lower your weapon?" he calmly requested. "It's a bit of over-kill, wouldn't you agree? He might be a brat, but he appears fairly harmless."

"Don't call me that," she said with a scowl. Yet, she dropped her aim, albeit begrudgingly.

"What on earth are you doing with my Night-Mares?" he enquired equably.

"They're not yours, darling, they're mine." She walked towards him with an air of triumph, closing the distance between them. _"These_ Night-Mares are much more to me than the embodiment of corrupted dreams."

He raised his brow in surprise. "What makes them so special?"

"You were down in that hole a long time, and your sand has evolved. It's… suggestible to my influence" she alluded, but wouldn't explain any more. "I must say, I'm surprised to see you after our little spat. Still, I won't deny I'm pleased you're here," she said with a simper.

"And why is that?"

"I'm in need of some assistance, and I think we could help each other." Her words echoed the manner in which he had conducted their initial bargain and he almost laughed in spite of himself at how the tables had turned.

"If you help me take _them_ down, I will be your Queen, my Nightmare King," she said with a purr that sent a shiver of desire though him. Edging closer, she continued. "That's what you want, isn't it?" She trailed a light finger down the front of his chest, biting her lower lip as she leered up at him. "Them out of the way, and me by your side?"

It was exactly what he wanted and it took every ounce of his strength to not become enamoured by the vision. He needed to maintain a level head.

"You make a compelling offer," he considered smoothly, "I have to ask though, if you refuse to be called Valentina, who are you?"

She chuckled darkly. "Haven't you guessed? I'm the contempt you feel for those wretched Guardians, I'm the self-loathing people grapple with everyday. I'm the rebellion in children that compels deplorable behaviour, and I'm the grudge that's held long after the betrayal. I am hatred, incarnate," she revealed with a malicious cackle, "and darling, what could go together better than fear and hate?"

There were indeed very few things that could be paired so fittingly, and fewer still that could truly strike terror into the heart of Pitch Black, but the thought of Valentina being replaced by her sadistic alter ego was enough to do so.

"A fascinating proposition," he reflected with a quiet intimacy, "you're right, I do want those things very much." He tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, and cupped her chin in his hand, holding her gaze in his steely one. She stared at him hungrily, a fiendish smile playing on her dark lips.

"There's just one tiny detail you've missed," he whispered.

Her triumphant expression faltered.

"I want them with Valentina, and as you've made it abundantly clear, you're not her."


	10. Curiosity killed the cat

**A/N:** A big shout out to those of you who followed or favourited, I was really feeling the love this week.

 **Reviews:**

 **Crossover Junkie:** Too right. The guardians aren't the only ones who will be saying wtf now that I'm done here.

 **Skyress1:** Oh yeah, just you wait. You're right, it is a good thing. And you make some very valid points which I agree with wholeheartedly, so fear not! There is a method to my madness, I promise.

* * *

What happened next in the typically quiet suburban court occurred so quickly that a sequence of contributing factors was difficult to trace in hindsight. However, it could be described in one word: disastrous.

Something shifted in the temptress' scrutiny of the fear spirit and it was this subtle indication that first gave Pitch the inkling that he'd made an error. The second, and more obvious clue, was the aggressive shove with which she pushed him out of her way, hell-bent on getting what she wanted. Although he'd been weary, Pitch had underestimated the extent of the hateful Valentina's wrath. Just because he refused to help her didn't mean she had no qualms about forging on with her scheme herself. She was finished waiting. She would be believed in, by any means necessary.

Taking up her bow and arrow infused with the detestable potion she'd concocted whilst under the influence of her alter ego earlier that day, Valentina stalked toward her prey and aimed to fire. Picking up on her calamitous intentions, Bunny hopped into an attack, sending his boomerangs flying in an arc towards her. But he was too late. At that very same moment, she released the tensioned bowstring that held her accursed arrow in its nocking point, which hurtled straight for poor, unassuming Thomas.

What both Valentina and her twisted counter-part failed to realise was that without the L'amour, the Guardian of Love's arrows were categorically and irrefutably fatal. No substitute could soften their blow, certainly not one that contained the essence of pure, unadulterated hatred. At this point it need not be said that the situation was grim and presumably could only have ended in tragedy.

However.

While Bunny may have been fractionally dilatory, Pitch had not. Time seemed to unwind as milliseconds counted down to the inevitable moment of impact. Call it intuition, call it instinct, something unexplainable told him that the Valentina he knew was fighting against this loathing made manifest, and he had a premonition that it was about to do something abhorrently unforgivable. The boy wouldn't be able to hear him, but he could still warn him. With a flick of his fingers, a dart of nightmare sand infiltrated the child's mind and he flinched just in time, moving enough to ruin Valentina's aim. For Pitch it was only a small gesture, and yet it completely changed the course of Thomas's fate.

In short, the boy was able to to return home safely that night, but by no means did he walk away unscathed. Narrowly missing his torso, the arrow instead whizzed past his arm, leaving a deep gash in its wake that blossomed red. He cried out from the searing pain and looked from one Guardian to the next in tumultuous panic.

"No!" she screamed with anger at having missed with what precious little liquid she had. As she projected her fury, she reached for another arrow. Pitch intervened by snatching it away and attempted to restrain her from acting out further.

"This isn't you, Valentina," he said through gritted teeth as she fought against him, "but I know you're there, I know you can beat this." He couldn't be sure if it would bring her back, but perhaps if she could hear some words of encouragement it might ward off the negativity that she radiated.

Valentina - the real Valentina - eventually stopped struggling and instead stood there with arms locked behind her back, shellshocked by the actions that she'd been taken against Thomas. It seemed that with her build up of hateful energy fully expended in one despicable act, she was finally freed. With their true mistress absent, the newly regenerated Night-Mares slunk off into the surrounding shadows and slipped away. Colour seeped back into her complexion, but her shadowy eyes remained.

"No, no, no, no…" she rasped, shaking her head vigorously in denial.

North stood by, dumbstruck. She had attacked a child under oath, the very beings they were sworn to protect. Christmas was slipping further away from their grasp and he was slowly but surely loosing his powers along with it.

"Val... how could you?" he gasped softly.

Tooth, Jack and Sandy had come to the boy's aid instantly. The dreamweaver knocked him out with a dream of particularly strong dosage to keep him from waking the neighbourhood, and Tooth attempted to bandage his arm with a cloth she'd found in the sleigh while Jack slipped his red bag under Thomas' head as he slept. The wound was clean, and no adverse symptoms had presented other than the promise of a nasty scar. Although, there was a slight purplish tinge around the edges.

With Pitch's restraint having relaxed slightly, Valentina broke away and started forward clumsily, frantic to try and fix the damage she'd caused when North stepped in and used his imposing frame to block her from coming any closer. There was a look of complete betrayal and disappointment from him that she found herself arrested by. What hurt most of all was his appraisal of her, within which she saw the reflection of a monster.

"It wasn't me," she choked, barely managing a whisper.

"It may as well have been." There was no emotion to his voice, it was flat and defeated in the worst way. He turned from her just as a fine, hairline crack appeared across her cheek. "Take her to North Pole."

"Who?" Jack asked.

"Anybody," North said with a lashing of exasperation, "she needs to go. Grab one of snow globes and make sure she gets there."

"Not that I could care less about Christmas," came Pitch' disdainful interjection, "but you're all otherwise engaged, so perhaps I will take her instead." He wasn't out to negotiate.

"You?" The pooka was livid. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't kick your arse into the next century?"

He chuckled darkly. "Just when I thought rabbits were supposed to be nervous…"

"I'm not afraid of cowards, mate. You wanted so badly to have someone on your side that you corrupted her. Well look what it's done. I hope it was worth pushing her to the brink of self destruction."

Bunny's accusatory tone did not go unanswered. "You morons think I did this? A child was injured by someone with no autonomy, he could have been killed, and you think I would actually want that to happen," he retaliated viciously.

"It wouldn't be the first time. Why would you care, huh? You're just a selfish bastard. When have you ever cared about anyone but yourself?"

"You wouldn't have the faintest idea." He bore his jagged teeth jeeringly in something that was neither a smile nor a sneer.

"Yeah, cause you never have, and you never will. But hey, if you two are such great pals like she seems to think then sure, go ahead, take her to the Pole."

"What makes you think I would take her there?" he scoffed with a scowl. "She's coming with me."

"No, she can't go back the shadow realm, not now. Take her to North's," Tooth urged. "If you want to do something, at least make it right by her." She had some faith that what Valentina revealed about the Boogeyman might have been true, and if there was anything that would convince him to listen, her wellbeing might be the catalyst.

Pitch, meanwhile, was repulsed by the thought of actually taking orders from those he despised and had to force himself into swallowing his pride just this once. Whether he like it or not, the North Pole may have been able to provide some answers for them both. And if it really would help…

With flared nostrils he resigned to compliance. "Fine," he conceded scathingly. He hadn't taken his icy glare from the Pooka, although perhaps he should have. "Valentina, are you ready?" The spirit in question had been silent throughout the entire exchange and upon not receiving a response he wrenched it away, only to find her fixedly staring at her hands.

"Pitch," she said weakly and held them up in the dim light to show him. Cracks had begun to appear on her skin, as though she were a live porcelain doll about to shatter. With a flutter of her eyelids she began drop and he caught her reflexively before she hit the ground.

"What is that, why is this happening?" He looked to their leader, demanding an answer. The others had already sensed something troubling was occurring, which gave reason to their urgency. But nothing could have prepared them for when they actually saw Valentina's affliction. They each gasped in shock.

"Go," North adjured, "find Book of Guardian Law. It will tell you everything."

Eventually Pitch appeared at the Pole by way of the shadows, much to the aggravation of North's hairy henchmen. He had refused to accept the snow globe offered and carried Valentina himself, who was curled to his chest and still out cold. At first Phil attempted to sound an alarm, but once he saw the state of the young woman held in the fear spirit's arms, he and the others did everything they could to help. Finding a chaise lounge in one of the spare rooms, they brought it by the fire and Pitch was finally able to lay her somewhere comfortable. The yetis were then ushered away and they complied, given the Nightmare King's reputation, but they still were adamant to keep a watchful eye on the scene from a safe distance.

He pulled up a stool next to her and sat in silent unease, hunching with his chin propped up by one hand while his elbow dug into his knee. As he watched over her in his dour posture, he saw just how ghostly she appeared without the usual radiance of her olive complexion. It was true her colouring had improved, but there was a persistent greyish quality to it that wouldn't relent. Tentatively, he took her right hand in his and examined it by the fickle light of the fire. Cracks, actual cracks tarnished the surface of her skin, like stone threatening to crumble. But they only seemed half real, an illusion perhaps. Because as he held it, there was no mistaking that she was still flesh and bone. The warmth from her hand felt as though it would burn his perpetually cold one and it ignited something within him that he hadn't felt in a long time, if ever at all. Her chest rose and fell gently with each breath, a peacefulness that was far from the torment of an hour ago, despite traces of the incident lingering. The shadows under and around her eyes made her appear tired and worn, aching for a sleep she shouldn't have needed. Although he never wanted to lose sense of this feeling ever again, he carefully placed her fragile looking hand back where it had been resting against her stomach.

He needed to know what was doing this, and better still why any of it was happening at all. Her random outbursts, the nightmare sand, all of it. Being stumped by such a mystery tormented him to no end and would have continued to do so, had he not remembered the book. It had to be there somewhere. They were surrounded by bookshelves, and to his right they stretched even further. He drummed his fingers against his thigh, looking around agitatedly for something that might fit the picture he had in his head of what he was supposed to be looking for. That, and for something to take his mind off the devastatingly beautiful mess in front of him.

Halting his wandering gaze abruptly, the realisation of the word that just came to mind hit him like a ton of bricks. When was the last time he'd called anything beautiful, devastating or otherwise? He glanced at her again and the same word teased the tip of his tongue. But what he saw was not merely a conventionally pretty face. There was a fiery, courageous determination, biting humour, and an unparalleled willingness to understand that captivated him beyond measure. What was it she'd said before? An ability to empathise... _Two people who detest each other may eventually grow to care._ Or something like that _._ Pitch stood and began to pace along the bookshelves that lined the space, deep in thought.

He cared. More than he realised. He'd even come dangerously close to admitting it to the fur-ball Guardian. The rabbit called him selfish, and a bastard, and he'd been right. _Although technically, only on one account_ , Pitch thought with wry amusement.

Then how could he care so much?

His dark cloak trailed behind him as he scanned the numerous, leather-bound spines: _Occupational Heath and Safety - Workshop, Elf Wrangling, The Control Manuel…_

Was it because she knew what it was like, being so alone for so long, and having that bitterness that resulted be twisted into resentment?

 _…The Care of Magical Creatures, Model Trains Vol.1…_

Was it the possibility that he might have found a kindred spirit who truly understood him after so many lifetimes of being shunned?

 _...Gods and Gateways: Myths of the Afterlife…_

Maybe it was how when she saw him she didn't accost him with terror like everyone else. Of all the things that scared her, and there were so many of them, he'd never actually found himself among them.

 _…International Relations, The Seven Wonders of the World…_

And even though she was scared, she still tried to face what the world threw at her. She'd tried to face him, and did so rather successfully too. Her bravery was the most inspiring thing about her, even if she didn't realise she had it.

Or perhaps it was all these things, combined with a strange sense of deja vu that made him feel he'd known her far longer than three short days. He realised, with some amusement, that the true irony of this whole affair lay in the fact that the one who usually answered such profound questions was the very spirit that preoccupied his thoughts.

He didn't have to go far to find what he was looking for. _The Book of Guardian Law_ was located on the same wall as the fire place. He pulled it from the shelf with a victorious smirk. It was large, heavy, ancient, and it was in fact the very volume from which the Oath of Guardians was read, although Pitch was apathetically ignorant of this fact. Hauling it back to his seat he noticed Valentina had stirred slightly, still by no means awake. No matter, he had plenty to keep himself occupied with.

He was about to settle in with the concrete slab of a book when Valentina groaned in her sleep. Pitch watched her intently for the next few moments. Something about it conveyed distress and he frowned as she emitted the guttural noise again.

"…hos…mo…iss," he heard her breathe.

 _What did she say?_ Pitch leaned in slightly closer to her, straining to catch the missing consonants if she uttered it again.

"…cos..mo…"

With a sharp intake of breath his eyes grew wide. _It can't be,_ he thought.

"Kozmotis…" She sighed the name in her dream state, wholly unaware of its affect on the Boogeyman. He was paralysed, dumbfounded, speechless, gaping at the slumbering spirit as his heart hammered in his chest.

 _How could she know that? How could she possibly…_

He hadn't thought about that name for millennia. There were fragments of memories long forgotten that it disturbed, emotions too strong to even comprehend. And there was pain. So much pain. His gut twisted itself into sickening knots. He needed to hear it again, but it was apparent Valentina had finished her disarming muttering.

"Kozmotis," he whispered under his breath, trying to reach what floated just beneath the surface of his sub-conscience. It was to no avail. The word, that name, whatever associative power it had before was lost. Now it was just a source of vexing unpleasantness that he had no way of defining. Though it did give him even more motivation to search the _Book of Guardian Law._

Pitch leafed through appendices, footnotes, and chapter after chapter detailing endless codes of conduct, the limitations of magic, the purpose of spirits among humans on Earth and so on. _Surely those weirdos don't actually read this thing_ , he thought. It was dry and boring, with very brief intervals containing anything of actual interest, but he was spurred on by a need to know. In the wrong hands, the information it held could be used to bring about some serious damage, he realised. Lucky for the Guardians, he'd been feeling somewhat indifferent toward their dismal relations in recent days. He still detested them of course, but it was without the desire to wreck havoc on their efforts. They were doing a stellar job of that themselves.

When Valentina finally woke, Pitch was still searching. She opened her eyes slowly, disoriented and confused. She was surprised to see him there, particularly after she deduced they were at the North Pole, end even more so to see him engrossed in such a normal activity. His luminescent eyes were flickering from one side of the page to the other. His cheek rested on a fist, warping his mouth in a crooked slant as he perused, unaware she was watching him with contented interest. His brow furrowed every now and then as he passed over a segment requiring a little more concentration and he'd bite his lip whenever something seemed to become exceptionally tedious, which was always accompanied by a small sigh. She found his mannerisms when he thought no one was watching rather endearing, and was quite happy to stay in that little bubble of calm where the world was yet to have any sort of meaning to her confused mind. She shifted on to her side, her only real objective being to gain a better vantage point of the object of her fascination, but the movement seemed to disturb him and his eyes snapped up from the page.

"Ah, she wakes," he said, with a faint smile. "I was wondering how long it'd be before you finally returned to land of the living."

She made a disgruntled noise in the back of her throat and yawned as she attempted to prop herself up. "I wouldn't call this being awake," she said sleepily. She sat there for a moment, letting her memories wander back through the fog of amnesia, and Pitch returned to his reading.

"What are we doing here?" she asked after minute or two.

"You gave the Guardians quite a turn, they seemed to think it best that you returned to the North Pole for the time being while they finish with Christmas. Normally I'm not one to agree with any of their opinions, but this time they actually may have made a valid point." he explained, not taking his eyes off the passage. Something had caught his attention.

"Christmas?…"

She gasped. Her sense of serenity quickly disappeared as the events of the evening rushed back to her in full, gruesome detail. "Oh my God, I remember it. I remember everything," she cried. "I should have listened to you. You were right I should never have touched that stuff, not ever. What was I thinking!? God, I can't believe I was so stupid," she lamented in a distraught state.

"Well, I have always been of the opinion that 'curiosity killed the cat'," he agreed somewhat regrettably.

"I hurt that boy, Pitch! I hurt him!"

Pitch discarded the book and gave her his full attention. "Valentina, please stay calm," he instructed her evenly.

"I can't be calm, I nearly killed him!" she practically screamed.

"That wasn't you and you know it," he said sternly.

"It was me, it was my hand that shot the arrow. And even if it wasn't it may as well have been, that's what North said. I'm…" She caught sight of her hands and arms and her face fell in distraught agony when she found the jagged cracks that now decorated her skin. "I'm breaking," she whispered. "I let it happen again, I let fear and hate control me until I was nothing more than a savage and it's going to happen again it will keep happening and there's nothing I can do about it-"

"Enough, Valentina" he ordered, breaking her hysterical rambling, "I won't hear anymore of this self-degradation."

Even though she had a rant worth of things to grieve, Valentina held her tongue, recognising his austere tone. His ashen hands enclosed her knot of anxious fingers as she tried to take deep, even breaths.

"I want you to focus on me. Can you do that?"

It took a few trials. She kept wanting to flicker her attention to other things, none of which were helping, but eventually she found his gaze, held it, and nodded nervously.

"Good." He spoke softly, with a sympathetic bedside manner. "Now, I need you to tell me what it is that's frightening you."

"Again with this? What's the point, Pitch? You already know what they are. Fear is fear, and it's not going to make any difference whether I say it out loud or not," she argued despairingly.

"Yes, it will. I want to help you, but you need to acknowledge your fears before you can face them, and that's only something you can do. No one, not even I, can do it for you. When you say them it allows you to hear them for what they truly are.

She exhaled slowly in consideration. It was so simple what he was asking, but the concept of actually realising her fears still seemed like a daunting task.

"Valentina, will you trust me on this? You don't have to worry about me. Like you said, it won't be anything I don't already know."

Focusing on the gold and sliver flecks of his irises allowed her something to use as an anchor to reality. She knew he was right, you had to know the beast before you could tame it.

"Alright," she began with a shaky breath, "I'm afraid of many things. Most people are, but mine seem to affect me more strongly than others somehow. I'm sacred of making mistakes, especially when others are relying on me. And when I do, it can feel as though the world is going to end if I can't fix them. I'm scared of losing control, of myself and the things that influence me. This thing inside of me is terrifying and possessive, and I can't help but think it wouldn't exist if it wasn't some reflection of the most deplorable parts of my soul. One of the things I dreaded has already happened: I've failed at being a Guardian and it won't be long before they throw me out. Of course, I'm petrified that when they do, I'll be alone again. I'll go back to wandering aimlessly, never staying in one place for very long. It could be years before I talk to anyone and the silence is deafening when my memories of family are nothing but a blur of hazy figures. But worst of all, I'm sacred of the monster I might have become to you. I did something so selfish and reckless, all because I couldn't handle what my fate had dealt me. None of us are supposed to hurt children and yet I did. I can't even imagine what you must think of me."

"Oh I can assure you that I'm a far greater monstrosity than you ever will be. In fact, I guarantee it," Pitch rebuked ruefully.

She looked fiercely as though she wanted to fire off a thousand different arguments to the contrary, but he pressed on with a consoling sigh.

"Valentina, this fear that you feel right now is strong, and I understand that it's on the verge of overtaking everything. But you have to try and rationalise it as best you can. Fear is there for a reason, unpleasant though it is for anyone but me. If you can remember why that is, you might be able to lessen it into manageable intensities."

"Do you really think so?" she asked skeptically.

His thin lips curled into a slight smile. "I know so. You're the bravest creature I've ever encountered. If anyone can do it, you can."

In speaking her fears out loud, they seemed more real to Valentina than ever before. But curiously, as she had begun to reveal exactly what it was that struck terror into her heart, the torturous nature of her anxiety seemed to subside. By the time she finished, it was as though she could see the proverbial beast with absolute clarity, and it, along with Pitch's unwavering confidence, helped her realise that there might be a way to beat it.

"I don't feel very brave though," she chuckled mirthlessly.

"And still you persevere! My dear, you cannot know courage without fear. Fearlessness and bravery are two very different things. When your _delightful_ alter ego decided to make an appearance, you might have been afraid but I could sense you were trying to fight against it. I don't know how, or why, but I am as certain of it as I am sure you're sitting in front of me right now. There's something very admirable to to be said about that. It makes me think you'll be able to beat this. All of it."

She gave him a grateful smile, still fixed in his gaze, and him in hers.

"Your fear of this Hateful you, which we both know isn't you at all, means that you're going to do everything you can to either destroy it, or keep it under control. And yes, I suppose it is an uncomfortable thought, falling short of expectations. But surely it just means you care enough to not let it happen?"

"Tooth did say something like that," Valentina realised. It seemed like forever ago, when Toothiana was convincing her to make the journey that started all this.

Pitch screwed up his nose in cynicism. "The fairy? Perhaps she's more intelligent than she looks."

"Don't say that," she scolded. "She's very smart and she's more than capable of looking it."

Pitch rolled his eyes. "Ok fine, she's more... open minded than I gave her credit for."

"Better."

"See, who else could berate the Boogeyman so brazenly?" He pointed out with a chuckle.

"Only because you let me get away with it," she countered with a begrudging smile.

He mused this wryly. "I'll admit that's become a rather bad habit of mine lately. But more importantly," he continued, "and hope you've already realised this, the worst case scenario happened, and you're still here. The world hasn't crumbled to the ground just yet."

"Maybe not yet, but I very well could," she reminded him, holding up a fragmented hand with worry.

"Ah yes. That's what I've been trying to figure out. I must say, the nature of your affliction does't fit any that I've found in here, but I still have..." he curled back the unread pages of the open book and dropped them again with a heavy thud, "...a bit to go."

"You were doing all that for me?" she asked in astonishment.

"Of course," he shrugged, "why wouldn't I?"

"I don't know, it just…"

"-Goes completely against my wicked disposition, how could I forget," he chuckled.

"I didn't say that."

"I'm only teasing," he said rolling his eyes again.

Valentina had been gawking at him incredulously, but she shook her head to herself as her dark lips spread into a grin.

"What?" he asked, feeling as though there was something he'd missed.

"Nothing," she laughed, "nothing at all."

He narrowed his eyes in puzzlement, but then waved a lazy hand dismissively and returned to the book. He brought it over with him to the chaise and held it open in his lap. Wanting to contribute to his efforts as much as possible, Valentina scooted closer to where he sat and peered over his shoulder at the page. Being so close to him, the warmth she gave was deliciously distracting, and he couldn't help but eye her as she concentrated. When she felt his stare she looked up from the passage with an amused smirk.

"What?" she asked.

"Nothing," he said hastily, having forgotten himself. "Nothing at all." Valentina smiled to herself.

They read on in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before she added, "You know, you could never be a monster as far as I'm concerned."

"Don't make promises you can't keep," he said flatly.

"I mean it," she persisted. "I don't know who you were in the time before we met, but what I see is someone who has the ability to show kindness and compassion, even when that person deserves absolutely none of it, and can't even begin to find a way to express her gratitude. I remember everything that's happened tonight.

"Everything?" He raised an eyebrow.

She blushed slightly. "Yes. _Everything_. You saved that kid from me, I saw you. You did something for the greater good, something heroic. Boogeyman or not, you are no monster, Pitch Black."

"That's a charming sentiment," he chuckled humourlessly, "but you'll forgive me if I have trouble agreeing with you."

"You don't have to agree," she said, placing a comforting hand on his arm, "you just have to listen."

It happened slowly and then all at once. As she gazed into to his haunted eyes in the hope that he would not only hear, but believe what she said, she saw the soul within and she longed to know it. Without conscious thought of what she was doing, she leaned in and kissed him gently, which left Pitch almost as dazed and confused as she'd been earlier.

"What… what was that for?"

"It was a thank you," she justified quietly with a coquettish smile.

"Well in that case, my dear," he purred, running a caressing hand along her jawline and cupping her cheek, "you are very welcome."

He allowed himself to meet her deep green eyes once more, and was ensnared by a nagging familiarity that persisted until something occurred to him.

"Valentina," Pitch began, but couldn't seem to finish. She was anticipating a follow up sentence and looked at him expectantly as he hesitated. "What are your thoughts of the name Kozmotis?"

She gave a half laugh at the odd question. "I think you might need to slow down there for a second."

The greyish tone of his cheeks darkened slightly. "I mean," he clarified upon becoming flustered, "have you ever heard that name before?"

Valentina frowned, racking her brain for a meaning to the foreign string of syllables and came up with nothing. "I'm sorry, Pitch, I don't think I have. Why do you ask?"

"You said it in your sleep."

Her eyes grew wide as saucers. "But how? I've never heard it before in my life."

"That was what I was hoping you'd be able to tell me."

She hummed thoughtfully, concentrating. "I did have the strangest dream, though," she told him.

"And what would that be?"

"I don't remember seeing anything exactly I just felt like I'd lost something very important. I can't think for the life of me what it could have been though." Her mouth set in a tight line as she considered the troubling feeling and she groaned in frustration. "I don't get it. Ever since I took that Oath I've had nothing but trouble coming at me from every direction. I just wish things could be simpler right now."

"What?" Pitch stared at her as a disquieting expression darkened his face. "You've taken the Oath already?"

"Yes?" she replied uncertainly, "I thought that was a given. Why wouldn't I have?"

"You really one of them. You're a Guardian."

"Seriously, if that tiny detail is going to change your entire perception of me that quickly then obviously you haven't listened to a word I've said," she started angrily.

"No. No, it's not that," he interrupted, and flipped through the _Book of Guardian Law_ , to find the index.

"Then what is it?" Valentina asked in agitation.

Pitch read frantically through the list. "I didn't realise. How could I have so blindly assumed…" he muttered. "I've been looking in the wrong section."

In a blur, he reopened the pages to a spot that was a source of both relief and sheer dread. _"Breaking the Oath of the Guardian"_ , it read. And there, in striking detail, was an illustration of a hand eerily similar to that of Valentina's own.


	11. Last chance

**A/N:** Welcome back, I hope everyone has had a great week. Mine was full on but that's nothing new. And if it wasn't the best, I hope I can cheer you up a little with this brand new chapter. As always my love goes out to those of you who followed/favourited this week, and to those who are still reading quietly.

 **Slang:**

Bugger off = For want of a more appropriate phrase: Get lost.

 **Reviews:**

 **Crossover Junkie:** That sounds fantastic. Yes the people of Darwin have been resilient, and Cairns is beautiful so I hope you get to see it. I will be going forward, I have a great plot figured out and there's so much to draw upon from William Joyce's work. Don't worry, I gave him plenty of hugs in this one, whether he wanted them or not (I think he did).

 **Skyress1:** I'm just going to let you keep guessing ;)

* * *

Valentina did not cry. She didn't scream or wail pathetically. She made not so much as a whimper. Instead she sat in silent traumatism staring unblinkingly at nothing.

 _"Valentina"_

Pitch's voice barely reached her. Blood was rushing in her ears, drowning out everything else.

"Valentina, did you hear what I said?"

She gave a slow nod with her gaze still fixed on the empty space ahead of her. "Yes, Pitch. I heard you," she replied absently, and had no desire to have it repeated.

 _The Book of Guardian Law_ held all the answers North had promised and presented to them, in merciless detail, the ghastly nature of what ailed the Guardian of Love.

"Three moons, starting from the cycle we're in. If the last was on the 18th…" Pitch was so quick he practically glided over to the astronomy section of North's library. Ripping open the first one he found that appeared as though it might be of use, he skimmed until he found exactly what he was looking for. "The 16th," he determined faintly, "Valentina, you have until the 16th of February."

There it was: The day she ceased to exist as she knew it. The day she would turn to stone and crumble to dust, truly representing the heart of a Guardian who could find it within themselves to harm the very children they were sworn under Oath to protect. There was no refuting the conditions, she was being punished justly and fairly. What would a few tears do to change that?

Trying to come to terms with what was essentially her death sentence, she pulled the heavy book lamely onto her lap and stared at the page, watching meaningless words swim before her eyes. She felt Pitch slump quietly next to her. Being the Spirit of Fear, he knew all kinds of ways to scare a person into oblivion. He revelled in misery and woe, and found solace in the cold dark of the shadows. As such, he felt helpless in the art of providing comfort. There was nothing more to be said, so he did the only thing he could think of and clasped her hand tightly in his. There they stayed for what seemed like hours, unmoving and silent. But while Pitch brooded over the thought of her eminent demise that would see him falling back into the despair of isolation, Valentina was formulating a plan.

Something had caught her eye as she studied the page. Eventually, what her mind could only comprehend as a muddle of words reformed and focused, revealing to her a section of fine print that Pitch had missed the first time.

"Pitch." She nudged him out of his melancholy state. "Pitch, look at this."

"What is it?"

She pointed to the section and began to read: _"The Oath of the Guardian is sacred and binds an appointed spirit to the duty of protecting the innocence of all children in the world, allowing them to lead lives free of fear…_ "

Pitch couldn't help the scowl that curled his lips into an ugly sneer.

" _…_ _By taking the Oath,"_ she pressed on _, "said Guardian bears the responsibly that should grievous harm befall even one child by their hand, the price of their own life will be exacted_."

"Valentina, I don't understand how this is new information," he interrupted. There was pity to his tone, assuming that she was grasping at straws in a hopeless situation.

"No wait, there's more," she assured him and stood up with the book in hand, continuing on. " _In the event of such a tragedy, the accused will begin to deteriorate and fracture. After three moons they will be irreversibly turned to stone_."

"February 16th," Pitch specified looking slightly nauseous.

" _However. If in this time the accused is able to prove their remorse and redeem themselves, the curse will be reversed and the spirit no longer afflicted_."

Pitch gaped at her in disbelief. "What are you saying, is there-"

"-A chance that I can fix this, yes," she cried happily. She threw the book aside and, in her elated state, pulled him from his seat to hug him unexpectedly. Although it was done somewhat awkwardly, the sentiment was still there when he held her close in return. The execution of a simple hug ever eluded him and he mentally scolded himself for feeling so inept. She had just kissed him after all, how could this be more difficult than what he'd thought to be impossible? He said nothing, instead mouthing a thank you to the universe for granting her one last chance. Unpracticed though Pitch may have been, Valentina could feel it in his cautious touch and had seen it in his face. Real, uninhibited affection, the living embodiment of a sigh of relief. Wrapped in his arms, it was as though she'd fallen into the embrace of an inky black night, cold and calm. Yet, she still had a burning question for the Nightmare King.

"I swore to myself I would never, ever do this to you," she began quietly, "but, in light of everything that's happened, I have to know; Why do you care so much about what happens to me?"

Pitch tensed and he pulled away from her entirely, breaking the spell. Although he had no hesitations with instructing Valentina to face her anxiety, he himself was decidedly against having to confront any emotions that weren't fear and loathing. "I just… do. Can't it be left at that?," he grumbled, which had Valentina raise an eyebrow at his lack of composure.

"God forbid, the Boogeyman is capable of feeling something," she teased. When he scowled displeasingly she pulled him back to her by taking both his hands. "Pitch, please don't be angry. I can't help knowing these things, just as you can't help reading my fears. It's what we do. I knew you wouldn't like it if I asked, but no one has ever cared about me in the slightest and I just want to know, why now? Why you?"

He'd pondered this question fruitlessly himself only a short time ago, but it had taken for Pitch to see exactly what he'd lose with her gone before he realised why he was so desperate for her to stay. He let out a sharp sigh, well aware that his walls were about to come crashing down. "Because…" he tried to search for the words, words that had eluded him until she was standing there in front of him, light, bright and broken. He cupped her fractured cheek gently, concerned she might just shatter in his hands.

"Because I've never felt more alive than I do when you're with me. You give me the closest thing I have to a memory of what I once was."

"And what was that?" she asked in a tremulous whisper, not expecting a revelation so poignant from him.

"I don't know if I'll ever remember."

"Oh Pitch…"

"You gotta be kidding me."

They flinched away from each other, startled and embarrassed to find five utterly appalled Guardians had appeared at the North Pole thanks to a snow globe portal. It was Jack they'd heard, and he stood gawping at the scene in a slack-jawed stupor.

"What in the bloody hell?" Bunny looked absolutely revolted at having walked in on something that was evidently intended to be private.

If Pitch had ever been angry at the brigade of childhood heroes, it was nothing compared to how he felt with the knowledge that they might have over heard his confession. "So, the great heroes finally decided to show up," he spat scathingly. In an instant, the oddly affectionate Pitch Black vanished, replaced by the menacing Nightmare King who rounded on the Guardians instinctively.

"No thanks to you two," Bunny retaliated, poised to strike at any moment. North halted him by placing a large hand on his furry shoulder.

"What happened?" Valentina asked looking from one spirit to the next, biting her lip, "was everything ok? Did you get to everyone?"

"Only just," said North in his gravelly register, "was not simple task. The Night-Mares must have known you were only one not weakened. As soon as you were gone, they were everywhere, cities, towns, countries. No where was completely free of them. You were right, they were aggressive. Much more than last time." He glanced at the globe above them. There were slightly more lights than before they'd left, but the Guardians and their dwindling strengths had been far from successful. Receiving presents was all good and well, but as they'd seen with the boy Thomas, children around the world were becoming more unreasonable, less tolerant. Less easy to bribe, as Jack might have once said.

"North, I'm so sorry." It devastated her to think that she might have sabotaged their chances at a successful Christmas.

North shook his head and appraised her in ernest. "Val, it was not you. You were not in right mind. I do not hold you accountable for things that happened tonight. Sandy was with you for most of your time, he explained that you were not yourself at some point. If he is believing that you are not at fault, then neither am I."

She was taken aback by the Sandman's verification and gave him a grateful smile, which he returned with kind nod of his head.

"Perhaps I can't be held accountable, but that doesn't make it any less serious," she reasoned. "Pitch found the Book of Guardian Law. As far as it's concerned I am the one who has to shoulder the blame, regardless who's hand it truly was. I appreciate your forgiveness though, I really do."

Tooth saw by the pained expression on Valentina's face that she had more information to impart, and it wasn't good. "What is it, what do you know?" she pressed.

"The 16th of February. That's how long I have before…"

Tooth's hand shot to cover her mouth. "No!" came her muffled exclamation.

"Tooth, it was my fault and I'm ready to take full responsibility for everything. Whatever that thing is that hurt that boy, she's a part of me for better or worse and I have to accept whatever punishment is seen to be fit," she reminded her friend solemnly.

"That doesn't make it fair, you weren't in your right mind!"

"Life rarely is fair." Pitch's contempt was evident as he glared at the newly arrived party. "Take it from me."

Bunny laughed mirthlessly, glad to finally have a scapegoat of some description in this disaster without a guilty party. "Cry me a river, mate. You know just cause your life sucks, it doesn't mean you have to drag all of us down with you. We'd be a whole lot better off if you could just bugger off back to where you came."

Pitch sucked his teeth in condemnation. "You think this ordeal affects you nearly as much as it does Valentina? Now look who's being selfish." He slipped into the shadows and reappeared behind the Pooka. "You're quite the hypocrite, rabbit," he breathed, causing Bunny to jump in fright. He hopped several feet away from the Fear Spirit and beheld him scornfully.

"He's right though, you're the one who should be held accountable for all this," Jack accused, "you twisted her mind just like you tried to with me, I know it."

"Jack, please," Valentina pleaded, "that's not true."

Pitch smirked. "Well if isn't Jack Frost, the eternal screw up. Did you miss me?" he chuckled, "It must be so cold up there on the moral high ground, but I'm sure you're well equipped."

Jack gritted his teeth in anger. His grip on his staff tightened considerably, and at his feet the floorboards were soon covered by a thin sheet of glistening frost.

Pitch raised his voice slightly to address all of them . "I don't know what it would take for you all to finally grasp this wild concept, short of me scaring you senseless, but I have done nothing to harm Valentina. I only want to help her."

While the Guardians regarded him though trepidatious narrow gazes, a stunted figure marched haughtily to meet the Nightmare King, and he was furious. Sand bellowed like steam from his ears as he glowered at him, and though a series of aggressive (and at times profane) symbols, Sandy let Pitch know exactly what he thought of him.

"Oh come now, Sandman, where's your sense of humour," he chuckled darkly, "aren't we past that little hiccup? I mean here you've been, better than ever while I've rotted away, festering in my eternal loathing for you. I think we're well and truly even." His superficial calmness veiled a venomous undertone that Valentina picked up on before any of the others could register it.

"Pitch, whatever it is you're thinking, don't do it," she warned him in a low whisper.

"Why shouldn't I?," he hissed back. "They want to bring up the past then by all means, I'd be happy to oblige." He turned to glare at them once more. "I'm far from forgiveness."

"Pitch, you have only self to blame," North addressed him sternly, "we all made choices long ago and you chose fear."

"You blindly agreed to whatever the Man in the Moon decided," Pitch cried. "We are all powerful beings and yet our destiny is supposed to be determined by the whims and fantasies of children? No. We are the ones who should influence their fate, not the other way round. I chose to forge my own path, but I didn't choose fear. I am fear. There's quite a difference."

"As is difference between being feared and being believed. You see for yourself which is superior."

That last remark, that little revile from the Guardian of Wonder was the final straw the broke the proverbial camel's back. Nightmare sand materialised and Pitch aimed straight for the group of five that he so repugnantly hated. The Guardians retaliated just as forcefully until all Valentina could see standing on the sidelines was a blur of sand and flashes of magic. It was happening again, she could feel it. She was slipping away and Hate threatened to consume her whilst those she cared for more than anything in the whole world battled each other out of unadulterated loathing…

 _Wait. That's it,_ she realised.

"STOP IT!" she yelled above the din of their scuffle. They each froze in place mid attack and glanced at her, hesitant to drop their defences. She could already begin to notice dark fog in her mind dissipating. "All of you, just stop," she begged. "Hasn't this petty feud gone on long enough?"

"Petty?" Bunny repeated incredulously, "we're talking about the protection of children worldwide here. This is war, that's what it is."

"No, not anymore," she declared. "You all are important to those kids out there. Each of you serves a purpose to guide them. Even fear. I will not stand by and watch you destroy each other over a grudge, because if you do it's going to destroy me as well."

Pitch, to the surprise of the Guardians, was the first to break his stance. "What do you mean?" he enquired with worry.

"I've figured out what's causing me to lose control," she revealed with a newfound composure. "Your ill-will towards one and other is being intercepted by me and I'm absorbing it whether I want to or not. If you keep fighting and attacking each other, it's going to bring _her_ back." In a squeamish manner, the collective of five followed Pitch's example and ceased their attack formation. "It wouldn't just be you either," she continued, "I started to turn when Sandy and I found that boy. I suspect anyone with as much malice could trigger the reaction. Hate always breeds hate, and in this case it's doing so in a very literal sense."

"And you turned just now?" Tooth reiterated.

Valentina began to pace the floor, still trying to piece together what had just occurred. "Almost. Only when you stopped fighting did I actually start to feel normal again."

"What does this mean then?" North asked her, holding his sword limply by his side.

"It mean it's time for him to get lost." Bunny glowered at Pitch and stuffed his boomerangs away in his pack. "I'll have a much easier time convincing myself not to beat him up if I can't see him."

Valentina took a deep breath, knowing there was going to be opposition from everyone at what she had to say next. "No please, I need you to let him stay."

"What!?" came the unanimous exclamation from Guardian and Boogeyman alike.

"We still have a deal, and I agreed to honour that commitment. I'm not going back on my word," she announced definitively with an intent look at Pitch, who's stony gaze softened as he understood that she intended to be constant rather than fickle. "But I'm not finished yet. If I can't return to the shadow realm, then as long as I'm stuck here I have to be able to see him. It means that you all need to settle your differences, you have to quit with the animosity around each other and especially around me."

Jack and Sandy glanced at each other in consternation, the memories of their battle with Pitch still fresh even after six years. "I don't think you realise how big a favour it is you're asking here," the winter sprite informed her dubiously.

"I do, Jack," she assured him, "I don't deserve your help and I'm in no position to make so many demands, but please, if I'm going to have any chance of fixing this I need you to be civil at the very least."

"You can fix this?" Tooth wings twitched as her hopes began to rise with the sun that peaked over the mountain ridge outside.

She nodded. "Maybe. I have one more chance if I want to do something good. The book states that I have until my last day to make things right. I don't know exactly how I might do that yet, but I might have one idea," she alluded as a smile crept across her fragmented face.

Their hostility was forgotten for the most part as they all waited with baited breath for Valentina's grand scheme.

"What? Spit it out," North urged her impatiently.

"Well, it might be game over on the 16th, but it doesn't matter," she said with confidence, "Valentines day is on the 14th of February. That's the key, if I can somehow make this the greatest Valentines day ever, I might be able to save myself, and help us be able to get rid of those Night-Mares."

As the realisation of this last thread of hope circulated the room, the dour expressions of the Guardians brightened and they exchanged sanguine grins that perhaps things weren't as bleak as they'd first appeared. Pitch, meanwhile, had vanished from the midst of the throng and reappeared next to her, appraising her with admiration. "You really are quite remarkable." he muttered so only she would hear.

"I have my moments," she shrugged with a modest smile, before raising her voice again. "So even though you all might not like this situation, I need you to cooperate if this is going to work."

"But why can't you go just go with Pitch if you're so obviously joined at the hip?" Bunny complained with rolled his eyes.

Valentina blushed slightly at his implication that they were something of an item, and Pitch crossed his arms in indignation. "Because it would destabilise her," he explained with a great deal of condescension toward the pooka, "if she's so strongly affected by hate, then down there is the last place she should be. In my period of incarceration the hatred I had for everything was so poisonous it must have changed the properties of the nightmare sand." He then spoke to her specifically, "I think that might be why you can control it."

Valentina gasped softly when she realised what he said made perfect sense. "Of course," she agreed, turning to face him, "I can't control fear, but I can control hatred - at least until it gets the better of me."

"She can do what? Control the nightmare sand?" Tooth asked with increasing panic.

"No, not exactly," Valentina reassured her hastily, "I can control it for a little while, but it's too powerful. I was never meant to use it, so there tend to be some side effects, namely a pretty drastic personality shift," she laughed humourlessly, "You were right, Tooth, I can't go back there, it would be suicide. I guess I really am stuck here."

"Then is final," North agreed as he replaced his sword above the mantle of the fireplace, "Christmas is finished for another year so Val can stay for as long as needed. If incident occurs, only issues will be repair and maintenance. And we will help with preparation for Valentines Day."

"Aw seriously?" Bunny's face fell in dismay. "But Easter's only months away by then. Why do we even have our own jobs when we're too busy looking after everyone else?"

"Bunny," Tooth warned him, "We helped you when you needed it,"

"Yeah, and I still ended up looking… _cute_ ," he shuddered, "there's another thing we can add to the list of reasons why he…" he pointed at the Boogeyman "…should not be hanging around here."

Pitch emitted a soft chuckle that wasn't entirely friendly. "Now, now rabbit, there's no need to get riled up. It sounds like someone needs a little scratch behind the ears."

"It wasn't funny then, and it's not funny now," Bunny growled as he moved behind the chaise lounge, trying to put an obstacle between himself and the Boogeyman.

Seeing that tensions were quickly starting rise again, Tooth stepped in to the middle of the room. "That's quite enough guys. Pitch, leave Bunny alone and we shouldn't have any problems." His mouth formed a twisted pout at being chided by her, but he kept it shut nonetheless. "Bunny," she pointed to him now, "you're helping."

"But-" He tried to protest, however the glare he got from the Tooth Fairy was so pointed that he found himself shrinking back into compliance. "Ok, ok. Fine," he agreed in haste.

"Good. Now can we all try to get along, please?" It was posed as a question, but everyone knew that the fairy was beyond requesting. She was ordering ceasefire.

"As long as we're all agreed, I'm happy to play nice," Pitch said with a unsettling smile. It was forced, far from genuine, and still hinted at danger. But after a nudge from Valentina he willed himself to be civil.

"As are we," North concurred gruffly on behalf of the group. There were halfhearted mutters of approval, for they were all wondering the same thing. Just how could they be expected to curb their hostility toward the Nightmare King when he was the bane of their existence? "Pitch, you are welcome to come and go at Valentina's request," he offered begrudgingly.

"Very well," he replied with only a slight air of distain. "Valentina, may I borrow you for a moment?" Pitch shot a dark look of warning to the hovering Guardians when they refused to take a hint.

"Would you mind?" Valentina requested with a grimace. "It's fine, really, I'll join you in a moment," she reassured them. After a second of deliberation, they dispersed with sidelong glances at the pair. Tooth made it known that she was keeping an eye on the fear spirit, still not entirely trusting him for the sake of her friend and Jack ended up tugging her away, chatting with her in a low voice. Most likely, he was trying to keep her and himself distracted from the discomfort of this predicament they'd all found themselves in.

When they were finally out of the vicinity, Pitch released a haggard sigh, already finding that being polite was going to be a tiresome challenge. "They're just as infuriating as ever," he grumbled with a glance over his shoulder to where the Guardians lurked on the opposite side of the mezzanine. He appeared deflated and Valentina acknowledged that this was going to be a trying task for all of them. The thought then occurred to her that perhaps she was forcing Pitch into something he wanted no part of. They had a deal, but there was nothing stopping him from breaking it off. After all, he had well and truly regained his strength, therefore it was really only she that benefited from their bargain at this point.

"Do you resent me?" she asked him abruptly.

He had an absent, pained mien about him, but then looked at her in mystification when she posed her question. "What are you on about?"

"Do you resent the fact that I was chosen to be one of them?" she said reiterated with a shaky breath. "Do you feel obliged to keep helping me? You know you don't have to, I don't want to make you do anything. Obviously there's a lot of resentment between you and them and-"

"Darling, I would face them a hundred times over if I thought it would do any amount of good." He interrupted and reached for her hand, enclosing it in both of his. Having realised her doubts, he then proceeded with absolute sincerity. "I don't care what you are. If you're one of them then so be it. As long as you remain yourself, that's all that matters to me. Without you, I would still be down in that pit of despair, at the mercy of Night-Mares out of my control, I owe you my life and I'll do anything I have to if it means you get to keep yours." He let go of her hand and grasped her shoulders in an effort to convey the significance of her situation. "You have a chance to redeem yourself, Valentina. You have no idea what I'd give for the same opportunity."

At this, Valentina wrapped her arms around Pitch and clung to him with a fierce gratitude. "Thank you," she whispered into his chest. "Pitch I swear, I'm going to do what ever it takes for you to be able to do the same. There's good in you, I know there is. And even if no one else does, I believe in you.

Pitch was stunned. "And I, you," was all he could muster at first and he gingerly enclosed the Guardian of Love in his own embrace. "One hurdle at a time though, let's try and sort you out out first," he eventually chuckled warmly.

Her laugh was muffled slightly as her head was still buried in his chest. "Way ahead of you."

They agreed that while North in his benevolence had opened the doors of the North Pole to the fear sprit, Pitch would be better off returning to his lair for a while. Understandably, there was still friction between the Boogeyman and the Guardians and it wouldn't do to encourage another brawl. Some distance might benefit everyone. In that time Valentina planned to begin preparations immediately. There was much to be done and only a month and a half until her chance was spent.

"I'll be back tomorrow," he promised. "But if you need anything-"

"I'll let you know," she finished with a grateful smile.

With one last lingering look, Pitch Black slipped away into the surrounding shadows of the lowly lit room and left Valentina missing him already.


	12. No ordinary dream

**A/N:** So this is going to be something a little different for me... This fic is definitely developing some mystery elements, but because mystery is not my strong suite, well, we'll see how it goes. Regardless, I had a blast writing this chapter.

 **Crossover Junkie:** I'm so glad you're enjoying yourself, and thank you, I'm thrilled that you think so. I think you might be right with regards to Val and Pitch ;) and I'm aiming for relations with the Guardians to be very much like that. Pitch would never endure something he found completely pointless.

 **Now Edited:** 1/6/17

* * *

"So you and Pitch, huh?"

Jack was walking Valentina to her room — one that would be hers while she stayed at the North Pole. With Tooth, Sandy and Bunny having departed shortly after Pitch, Christmas was officially over, and so was the potential threat of a rogue fear spirit. In light of this, North took it upon himself to retire to his private workshop, keen to put his feet up and feast on whatever fruitcake he had leftover. He'd been considerably drained after the difficult stint and just as irate; He needed the day off. This left Jack at a loose end with only Valentina for company, and while she certainly wasn't his first choice on a list of potential partners in mischievous crime, she was still better than nothing. He was balancing on the mezzanine barricade, walking it like a tightrope as he gave her the official tour while she trailed closely behind.

"What about me and Pitch?" She skirted around the question, acting oblivious to what the winter sprite was implying.

Jack rolled his eyes and spun with one bare foot on the wooden beam to face her. "What are you guys?"

Making a show of looking down at her own appearance, she answered, "Is that a trick question?" and shot a small smirk up at him, having evaded interrogation once again.

"Quit playing, Val. You know what I mean."

"I don't know," she shrugged, "what do you want me to say? We're something, I guess. I mean, we're not nothing. Although the world seems to make a pass time out of trying to convince me otherwise."

"So you have a deal," he pondered aloud as he resumed walking, "which means you're on his side even though you're a Guardian?"

"Jack, if you're worrying about where my loyalties lie; Don't. I'm honouring my promise to Pitch. That's it. I'm not sabotaging anyone, I'm trying to stay as neutral as possible. He's expressed no interest in spiting any of you, and I admit he can be shifty, but to me he's completely transparent. As far as he's concerned the less he has to with us as Guardians, the better."

He tilted his head, not sure whether to buy her claim. "Thing is, you're not neutral." He ducked briefly as a miniature hot air balloon floated by, beautifully crafted, as though dreamed rather than created. "Even you can see you're biased, surely?"

There was really no point in trying to dodge his queries now. There was a powerful chemistry between her and this creature of darkness, and now it was out in the open whether she wanted to admit it or not. She blew a stray hair out of her face in defeat. "Perhaps. I'm very..." Her brow furrowed as she selected her words carefully "…Fond. Of him.

"That _is_ something, I guess."

She emitted a small laugh. "You know it's strange, there have been times where I feel he knows me better than I know myself."

"Yep, he has a habit of doing that," Jack agreed sourly, whipping his staff around so that it ended up resting across both his shoulders.

"I don't mean my fears," she corrected him, "I can't quite explain it, there's a weird familiarity there."

"So we saw," Jack reminded her. "Very familiar indeed."

She cringed from the embarrassment of having been caught in a rather inopportune moment. "Not that you were supposed to see that," she groused, "I mean I just _know_ him, and I think he knows me. At least that's how it feels. Does that seem crazy?"

"Yes," he answered curtly. Although he'd been the one to bring it up, he was starting to regret having to hear about her enamoured thoughts pertaining to the fear spirit.

Valentina exhaled with a puff of her cheeks. Jack was obviously determined to hold his grudge and she could see it would cause her no end of strife going forward if it wasn't resolved. Only, this rift ran incredibly deep, and she wasn't entirely sure she'd be able to perform a quick fix and help smooth things over. Not easily, anyway. But she would be damned if she didn't at least try.

"Before, you said he tried to do something," she probed without a trace of inhibition. "Since I've missed so much, I was wondering if you could you tell me what happened?"

The frost sprite came to a halt and gave strange mix between a grunt and a laugh. "You really wanna know," he asked turning to face her. When she nodded earnestly he sucked air though clenched teeth. "Alright, but when you're disappointed that he's not the great guy you thought he was, don't say I didn't warn you."

"I'm sure I've heard a whole lot worse in the last twenty-four hours alone. I think I can handle it."

He shot her an uncertain look, but then shrugged, deciding to just let her have it.

"Pitch is manipulative. That's the long and the short of it. He has the power to use your fear against you and play you right into his hands. When I got chosen, the only things I knew about myself were my name, that there was no way I could actually be a Guardian. As far as Pitch was concerned I was nothing compared to the four of them, and for a while that kept me off his radar. But then I started showing potential with my powers. So he lured me down to his lair with my lost memories, and that's when he started getting in my head. He told me everything I'd ever tried to squash down inside of myself. It was like listening to a record of all my worst thoughts played back to me.

"Then he gave me the memories, but it was only to make look like I'd gone out of my way to ruin Easter and seem like I was conspiring with him. That was his plan you see; Divide and conquer. He placed doubt in their minds and mine, so I ran away to Antarctica and he found me there." Jack laughed humourlessly, "I gotta hand it to him, he's persistent.

"Anyway, then he tried to appeal. Said he knew what it was like to be alone and unseen. That I could never truly be a Guardian cause they didn't understand like he did. He said that together we'd be unstoppable because people would have to believe in us. But he wanted a world of cold and dark and I was just going to be a pawn in his strategy. So I refused, and in return he threw me down a ditch and snapped this old thing…" he held out the staff "…making sure I wouldn't be able to escape. At least he gave it a good try. He thought that being feared was the same as being believed and that's just not true. I always wanted for someone to see me, but never because they were afraid of me."

Nothing could take away from the disappointment she felt in Pitch after hearing Jack's story, but for a moment Valentina was struck by just how similar she and the frosty haired boy were. It appeared existing unheard and invisible was far more common than she'd realised.

"Jack, I'm sorry for what you've had to go though. That's been my life too, no one has ever seen me either," she told him with a small smile of solidarity. "I won't try and justify what Pitch did because it was wrong. Without a doubt. He should never have done any of that."

"You don't seem that shocked though," he noticed and regarded her with a suspicious glance.

"I am… and I'm not," she confirmed sadly. "I regret that he'd even think of doing those things to you, but I also realise that he acted out of desperation."

"Oh yeah? For what, world domination?" he snorted.

"A means to an end."

His brow furrowed quizzically, and his hands slid down the length of his staff as he came to a crouch in lowering himself to her eye level.

"He's lonely, Jack," she elaborated. "He has been for a long time and he doesn't want to stay that way forever."

His expression did not shift. "For Pitch to be lonely, he'd have to have a heart first."

"But he does! Look, I'm not that naive," she replied to his dubious glance, "he tried to manipulate me too, but I suppose I was able to forgive him because I was privy to certain information you're not. That being, I know what Pitch really wanted was an end to his loneliness by any means necessary."

"How could you possibly know that, Val?"

"Because that's what I do: I know the greatest desires of anything with a heartbeat. But _obviously_ they have to have a heart to begin with." She let out a sigh. "As deranged as his methods were to convince you, I don't think he saw you as just a piece to his plan. Maybe he let himself hope that, unlike the others, you would understand him. It might have been for the wrong reasons, but I think he could have seen something of himself in you."

"That's what I'm afraid of," he muttered.

Valentina lowered her gaze. Perhaps that was the wrong thing to say. After all, it was hardly complimentary to be likened to someone with such a horrible reputation. She stifled a groan. _Foot in my mouth again..._ "Jack, I'm not saying you're like him at all. I just mean your situation was fairly similar. I'm sure you could never do the things he's done, especially when some of his actions were so awful. I'll be honest with you, at first I thought he deserved to be brought down, and I stayed because it was my every intention to help do so. But after a while I got to understand who and what he was. He saw it as me giving him a chance to be someone else, and when he did he started to act differently. He let his guard down, and only then did actually see what was in his heart. It was nothing like what I thought it would be."

Jack's sympathy, however, was naught and his expression hardened along with his resolve to maintain his grievance. "Val, I know people can change, but Pitch? He's got you fooled big time. He's just…"

"-As lost as any of us would be if our only companions were nightmares." She rebutted firmly. "Sure, he hasn't changed drastically, but I think he's improved. At the very least he's capable of acting for the greater good. He was the one who made sure that kid walked away with a scratch rather than an impalement. It was his choice. I certainly didn't tell him to do it. And imagine where I'd be right now if he hadn't."

They both suppressed a shudder at the thought.

"You do have a point," he admitted.

"Jack, I see it time and time again. Sometimes we find ourselves trapped in a way of thinking with no way out until someone comes along to show us an escape from a new perspective. That's just one of the ways love - in any form - will change you." It was in saying this that she realised just how true these words were for her as well. If he had needed her to show him that cruel and treacherous was not the only way to be, then she had needed him to help tame the fears in her mind. Of course they each still had a long way to go, but maybe her being dragged down into the shadow realm had been a blessing in disguise for them both after all.

Jack nodded. "Well, in that case he's lucky you found him. It's probably not a lot of fun having to be a jerk _all_ the time."

"I think we're both lucky. I'd be a nervous wreck without what he's taught me," she laughed. "I still am, but I'm getting better."

He frowned, betraying his misgivings and asked, "is he really helping you?"

"To control my own fear, yes. Just mine, no one else's," she reassured him, "He never intended for me to use the sand and I won't be trying to manipulate nightmares again, trust me."

Jack didn't know what to say to that. Of the things the Nightmare King could be, he was trying to be helpful? Strange didn't even begin to describe the idea. "So what are you saying should I do then, just forgive him straight up? 'Cause I don't think I can do that. Not right now."

"That's up to you. No one has the right to your forgiveness and they don't get to decide whether or not they've hurt you. Honestly, I wouldn't blame you if you didn't," she told him, and it was true. In all the conflicts she'd ever guided unwitting people through, when all the facts were laid out before them it always remained their choice to forgive. "But whatever you decide, sometimes it's worth giving people a second chance to make things right. You never know, they might surprise you."

"Funny... I said the same thing about you to the others."

She shot him a wry grin. "Before I blew everything to pieces, right?"

He returned it. "Just moments before."

She chuckled ruefully with a grimace. "Well, I really hope you'll give me another chance fix things. Being able to say 'I single-handedly ruined Christmas' is not something that sits well on your conscience."

He merely shrugged. "It'd be kinda rich if I didn't. You're talking to the guy that's managed to ruin Easter — Twice. Guess Manny's set the bar pretty low this time around." They shared a half-hearted laugh which quickly faded into silence. Jack appeared to be lost in thought.

"Something on your mind," she asked.

"Yeah. Just something that Pitch said." His eyebrows drew together in a frown. "When he found me, he said… He said he knew what it was like to long for a family. I thought maybe he was just saying stuff cause he thought it was what I'd want to hear but… Do you think he really meant it?"

Valentina's lips pressed together in crooked line and she breathed a small sigh. The one time the Nightmare King had managed to tell the truth and allowed himself to be vulnerable, and all Jack had heard was a lie.

"If what I saw in his heart was true, then yes," she said gently, "I think he would have."

In hearing her opinion, Jack eyes were downcast and he actually appeared rather contrite. But it wasn't as though he could be blamed. Really, it was Pitch's own fault for going about things in a manner so flawed. Shaking her head, Valentina dismissed her disappointment in the sorry state of affairs. "Don't worry about it too much, Jack. I'm not surprised you didn't realise."

He gave a non-committal grunt, still seeming troubled. She offered him a consolatory smile and in an effort to change the subject, wondered aloud, "isn't there a room you're supposed to be showing me?"

His expression immediately lifted. "Oh right, this way," he remembered, and leapt from the barricade to the floor. Valentina rolled her eyes, realising she'd have to walk with steady clip just to keep up with the reenergised winter sprite, who was traversing in leaps and bounds ahead of her. He lead them down a long corridor that was situated off the third level, lushly carpeted and warmly lit. They passed several closed doors before he stopped in front of one half way down.

"This is yours," he announced pushing it open. What she saw behind it hardly disappointed. A floor to ceiling window overlooking the majestic mountain ranges took residence on the outer wall opposite the door. A plush red sofa was placed adjacent to it, seated in front of an open fireplace to the right. Just left of the window there was an otherworldly brass horn attached to what could only be described as a music box. And on the left wall there was both a desk space and a small, personal library. The room was softly lit by lamps that dotted the walls at evenly spaced intervals. It was cosy, warm, perfect, and felt like home as she turned about the room.

"North is not playing around here," Valentina admitted, thrilled by how hospitable the Russian was being.

"Right? Hey, check this out," he bounded lightly over to the odd megaphone type instrument and pressed a button. As soon as he did, beautiful music filled the room, which she soon recognised as the pas de deux from _The Nutcracker_

"I love Tchaikovsky, how did you know?" she gasped.

"I didn't, the music box did. North made them so they play whatever it is you most need or want to hear. It's pretty neat 'cause sometimes you don't know what you want to listen to."

"North made this?"

"Oh yeah. He was like this inventor and a sorcerer's apprentice at some point. He's not just an old guy with a model train set, he knows some serious magic. So he says anyway."

"That's amazing," she exclaimed. "What does yours play?"

Jack scrubbed a hand over his face as he thought. "Punk rock," he determined, "mostly."

"Interesting," she laughed, but really she found it made a whole lot of sense with his rebellious nature. "Is your one like this?" She was speaking now in reference to the room as a whole.

"More or less. Although I don't usually have the fire going, you don't need one when you're this cool." He indicated with a thumb to himself and winked.

Valentina's expression flattened yet again as the overwhelming urge to slap his arm passed, much in the same way it does whenever one finds themselves subject to a terrible pun.

"Aaand I'll show myself out." He retreated with a smug series of finger guns and reached for the door.

"Actually," she stopped him, "I was wondering if you wanted to help me? Only if you've got nothing to do, that is." She was starting to find that she actually liked Jack's company and was eager to keep talking to him. It would take a long time before he'd feel at ease around her, but if she could show him that she wanted to be his friend rather than an enemy not to be trusted, perhaps it would settle his apprehension.

"With what?"

"Potions. I have the ingredients but I'm going to need a lot of utensils," she explained, realising that working without the proper gear might be more challenging than she'd first thought. Hopefully there would be something useful among all the toys and gadgets that scattered the place. "Know where I might be able to find some?"

After a moment of thought he smiled. "I think I might."

He led the way once again, down to the workshop that was unusually deserted - the yetis and elves were taking a day of rest much like their boss - so they were free to poke around uninterrupted. Locating a store cupboard to their right, behind a plain wooden door, they stepped inside to find more tools, materials and even ingredients than anywhere in the Northern Hemisphere. Suffice to say it was far bigger inside than its true dimensions allowed.

"Oh!" Valentina wasn't sure where to look first. It seemed like everything one could ever need would be located right here. "You found something alright," she commended him, "look at it all!"

"Now you know how North gets all his presents," he revealed with a twinkle of the mysterious in his eye. "The yetis build everything from scratch and from what I can tell, whatever's in here never runs out. Either that or Phil's way too on top of supply and demand and needs to get a hobby."

She picked up a chunky-looking glass jar and estimated the volume. "Do you think he'd mind if I just helped myself?"

"Couldn't hurt," he shrugged, "He said he'd help and this has gotta count. Plus, you don't want to bother him the day after Christmas," he cautioned, sounding as though he spoke from harsh experience.

"That I don't," she agreed, gulping at the thought of facing him after she'd been his biggest headache of all.

They spent the rest of the afternoon hauling bottles, bowls, obscure substances and strange apparatuses that Jack had never cared to learn the names of up to Valentina's room, chattering amicably the entire way with barely a lull in conversation. When they were finished setting up, the process of making Valentina's signature love potion began. Jack turned out to be far more a hinderance than a help, asking questions incessantly, accidentally knocking things or freezing them in fervent curiosity. Still, she didn't mind. For a friend to laugh and joke with, who simply wanted her there, was worth more to her that day than all the L'amour she could ever make. Eventually though, Jack could see that she would get things done faster without him in the way, and left to find other means to occupy his time while she went on with her work. And work she did, stirring, measuring and brewing, for hours on end, humming along to whatever the music box decided, well into the night until she collapsed on the sofa in a heap and drifted off to sleep.

* * *

Deep within the confines of his lair, Pitch released an anguished cry that was magnified as it resounded off stone pillars, ruined marble and crumbling granite. He grabbed at handfuls of his wiry dark hair in shaking fists and buckled as the wave of agony rolled over him again and again.

The Guardians hadn't been the only reason for his departure from the North Pole. He'd needed to get away from _her_. Too much had happened, and far too quickly. It was the kiss that nearly pushed him right over the edge. What began as a sweet intoxication when her lips met his soon festered into a poison that pierced his cold, black heart like a dagger. The searing pain grew more and more with each passing hour until he was sure he would cry out in torment, and it was made only worse with every soft word and kind gesture he attempted.

He'd managed to maintain a composed facade in front of Valentina for as long as he had to. As such, he was confident she suspected nothing of the turmoil that not only stirred restlessly in his chest, but threatened to break him, to snap him like a brittle twig. She couldn't know what had become of him. It was his pride on the line now and he refused to let himself be known as the spirit who's demise started with a simple kiss.

He felt as though he might be torn in two, like he was being pulled in different directions, ripped apart or severed. The pain seemed to shift and change. One minute razor sharp, the next deep and throbbing. How long had it been — Hours? Days? Years? He wanted it over, why wouldn't it be over!? He screamed again and dropped to his knees, reaching blindly for something, anything to grab onto. It was his own fault, he'd been the fool to admit all those things. Care, affection, what were they if all they did was torture?

There was something that beat from within his chest. It threw itself against his ribcage trying to escape, or propel him into wickedness, or both. Whatever it was revolted against that most wonderful of feelings he'd ever had the pleasure of knowing. He didn't have to behold it to know this thing that had lain dormant for centuries, only to now rear it's ugly head, was comprised of the purest evil. It grappled with his mind and heart, and pulled him back down into the tar pit of woe he'd known for an eternity. It reminded him that no good deed went unpunished, that no matter how hard he might try he would still be this creature: A slave to the dark but a master of the shadows. And who was he to think things would be different? He was not good. He was not nice. He was the Boogeyman and Moon above help anyone who could possibly think otherwise.

But there _was_ one.

All the while she never left his mind, as if, despite the pain it caused, he couldn't bear to be without seeing that face. The face of the temptress, the fiend who so cruelly reminded him what it felt to be alive. It was fleeing as it flashed behind closed eyelids, for he knew all too well that there was a chance he might lose her for good. But as her kind eyes formed and reformed again and again, he thought he felt the pain ebb just a little.

 _"I believe in you…"_

Her voice was a caressing whisper, a hallucination he knew. But it sounded so real in his desperation for a saving grace. In his mind he latched onto her apparition, begging to be pulled from the vortex of vile repulsiveness he was so very close to being dragged back into. One he had been so close to escaping.

"Please…Valentina… please," he moaned deliriously.

For moment everything stopped. The confusion, the spinning, the hurt. Silence rang in his ears and in an instant the agony returned with a vengeance. His world was consumed by an explosion of white hot pain.

* * *

 _His first thought was of death._

 _He had to be dead. It was the only explanation he could think of for the stark nothingness that stretched out limitlessly in all directions. This was the last stop, the purgatory before the Void. Unless… Unless it was a dream? He couldn't be sure, he wasn't usually one to visit the realm of sleep. In fact, he avoided it at all costs._ _But surely dreams didn't feel or look like this. If so, Sanderson was definitely loosing his touch._

O _f one thing, Pitch could be absolutely certain: If this was a nightmare, it was no nightmare of his making._

 _Growing impatient, he decided to walk, hypothesising that perhaps if he tried that something might happen. His footsteps, though they echoed hollowly in the empty space, took him in a direction that was neither forwards nor backwards and frustratingly, nothing changed. So he stayed put. He seemed to be in wait, but of what he had not a clue._

 _A figure then appeared only some distance away. It was unclear, barely even a silhouette and blurred as though it stood in front of a blinding light. All he could say with any conviction was that it favoured the human form. He tried to approach, but found he moved no closer and no farther._

 _"Who are you?" he called to it. That's when the dreamscape began to change. A scene materialised, falling into place around him and he could only just make out the figure that remained as it did._

 _Wherever he was supposed to be, he was certain it couldn't be Earth. Everything was wrong. This was otherworldly on an astronomical level. It was celestial, etherial, and boasted some sort of regality. All around him the black night sky could hardly be classified as black at all; It was abundant with galaxies of stars. More than could ever be seen by the naked eye on the little blue planet. No, this was somewhere else entirely. He stood on the dusty ground that seemed almost luminous as it caught the light of those many nebulae and found he was situated near a high wall. It was a building — strike that, a mansion of epic proportions, built into the rock face so that it appeared to rise out of the ground completely organically._

 _His gaze wandered skyward as he walked towards the base of it, but was drawn back down again when he crunched something underfoot. He was perplexed to find shards of broken glass littered the ground. As he followed the density of their scatter, he saw a shapeless form shrouded in cloaking lay crumpled and hauntingly still at the centre of their spread. He approached it cautiously. Something about it filled him with utter dread and his stomach churned at the thought of what he might find._

 _Upon reaching it, he peered at the thing and determined that it was almost definitely human. Only, the hood was drawn over their face, preventing him from identifying just who this pitiful creature actually was. He was arrested by a need to know, yet still he held a reservation over disrespecting the dead. He was despicable, yes, but he abided by a code. He should leave it be. But who was it? If he left it alone he'd never know._

 _In that moment he was hit with a premonition: The mystery would torment him for centuries to come._

 _There was a reason he was seeing this dream, there had to be. And that was all it was, he reminded himself. He was not bound to the morality of the wakened in this place. Whoever they were would cease to exist when he woke — If he woke. Whether this be a dream or a nightmare, it was still adherent of the same laws. Thus, he shook off the absurd notion that he would be committing some grievous sin by sating his curiosity._ _Reaching a cautious, ashen hand for the cowl of the hood, he revealed the corpse beneath._

 _His heart immediately protested. It was a woman. Her eyes were still open, and although it unsettled him greatly, it allowed him to see that they had once been a deep green. She was fair, luminous even, her skin contrasting starkly against her ebony hair._

 _Thoughts raced in his mind as he tried to comprehend what could have happened that caused an end to her life, each as uncertain as the next. But he did know one thing. He felt that he knew her. He didn't know where from, he didn't know why, and he was overcome with an inexplicable grief that shook him to his very core, mourning someone who by all accounts was a perfect stranger. As he continued to examine the crime scene with a critical eye, he noticed that she was not all the cloak had been hiding. She was curled around a second lump, protecting it even in death and he ripped the concealment away when he thought that something might have been alive._

 _A doll. It was just a child's play-thing… That would have made an excellent decoy._

 _He had to deduce this woman had died trying to thwart something or someone, and had done so in the hope that the child might have stood a chance of escaping the same fate. Such a selflessness he was sure he'd never known._ _Her eyes were still open, staring but unseeing, with any light that had once illuminated them long gone. He knelt beside her and, paying the utmost respect he could unto this fallen warrior, closed her eyes so that she might be accepted into the mansions of rest. But to his abject distress, as soon as he did so her body turned to dust._

 _"No!" he choked. It crumbled away and drifted into the air, glittering softly in the starlight. He tried to grab at the particles, but they slipped through his fingers tauntingly. He turned about, searching for a clue or a sign, and raked his hands through his hair. She was gone. Just like that._

 _"Kozmotis…"_

 _He whipped back around at hearing that name but still found nothing. Was he destined to be taunted by it for the rest of his miserable existence?_

 _"Kozmotis."_

 _There she appeared in front of him. The woman. The dead woman. How could this be? He had seen her disintegrate and still here she was, eyeing her own hands and wiggling her fingers in silent wonder. She was not whole, rather she was the ghost of this person, an incarnation of their soul composed of the very dust that eluded him. He stared at her, dumbstruck and unmoving. She bade him come closer and he did in a trance._

 _"Oh, my dear," she uttered in a hush, looking at his face and form properly for the first time. "What have they done to you?"_

 _"They… done to me? I don't… Who are you?" He was rambling in incomplete sentences, hardly making more sense than this wretched nightmare of a dream he'd found himself in._

 _"You don't remember."_

 _She sounded on the verge of tears, but it wasn't a question. It was like he was only confirming her worst fears which, strangely for him, he couldn't read. She was not of the living. There was nothing for her to truly be afraid of._

" _Kozmotis-"_

 _"Wait. That's me. That's my name," he breathed. It was beginning to come back to him. Through the hurt and grief there had been something else. Something happy. "At least it was…" He discerned that it wasn't that he felt he knew her. He_ had _known her. "We've met before."_

 _"You do remember!" She seemed overjoyed at the idea, but faltered when he hastily corrected her._

 _"No I don't. Not everything. Please, tell me who you are," he implored anxiously._

 _The ghostly woman smiled mournfully. "I cannot. Kozmotis, I don't have much time, and I think you know by now this is no ordinary dream. Please, you must try to remember."_

 _"If you tell me I will. Just say it, I beg of you."_

 _She shook her head sadly. "It doesn't work like that. I am sworn against it."_

 _"What...?"_

 _She glanced around, sensing something that he remained oblivious to, and she proceeded as though time really was of the essence. "I've found you once, I will find you again," she promised him. "But until then you must be brave. You must try to remember me."_

 _"But I can't!" He rubbed at his eyes in frustration when his memories refused to cooperate. "I don't understand. Are you saying you're real? How can any of this be real? You were a corpse, you were dead. It's not possible."_

 _"It does appear so, yes. However things are about to occur that you can hardly imagine, the possibilities of which being of little consequence. Kozmotis, you of all beings should know that just because a dream exists in your mind, it doesn't make it any less real. I see what you've become, but you mustn't let fear hinder you from the kindness I know you were once capable of," she urged him. "Be brave. Be brave like you taught Emily Jane."_

 _"Emily Jane," he repeated, searching for a meaning to the name that was just out of his grasp. In his mind it shone like a beacon, but broke his heart all the same._

 _"Your daughter, Kozmotis. She is your daughter."_

 _"My daughter…"_

 _"I must leave," she informed him regretfully — Already the dust that made her was falling away into nothingness. "But I am so close, my dear."_

 _"No, wait!" he cried. There was nothing he could do, for no sooner had she said this did she vanish without a trace, leaving him to fall terrifyingly into space as the dream shattered like the broken glass that had been at his feet._

 _..._

In her room of the silent North Pole, Valentina awoke with a start.


	13. The tale of Emily Jane

**A/N:** I've been absolutely snowed under by uni, but I had the day to myself and I worked my butt off to get this out. That being said, I think it's going to get a bit tougher for me to keep updating regularly each week. Either that or I have to settle for shorter chapters. Neither of these are appealing but you gotta do what you gotta do. So if I haven't updated for a while it's only because my brain is so fried that I have no good content. Check in with my profile or PM me if I ever go MIA.

 **REVIEWS:** (you people got me through the week, much love. And for those of you who said something to the effect of "can't wait to see what you come up with next" I literally laughed and said "SAME")

 **shiftingshadows963:** It's wonderful to hear from a new reader. I'm glad you thought so! Enough to keep following I hope.

 **Crossover Junkie:** Aw thanks! Do you just? I'm very curious as to what that theory might be, although I have a feeling I'm going to be far too obvious and give everything away. But no matter, I have plenty more surprises up my sleeve. And I suppose he is... warmer... but hope that's still a good thing. Hades does sound very similar to Pitch, you're quite right.

 **KijoKuroi:** What!? You spent all day. Reading my lil fic? I think I might faint. I'm thrilled you liked it enough to keep at it. Once again, love hearing from new people, thanks for reviewing.

 **Skyress1:** I thought it was wacky too, but I'm glad you liked it. Thank you! It's a bit of a risky move doing any OCx story, and believe me I cringe when I realise how mary-sue Val can sound, so it's great to hear you think that.

 _ **Now Edited**_ 10/6/17

* * *

From the minute her eyes flashed open, Valentina knew something was wrong. As she glanced around the darkened room in groggy confusion, she found she could not move an inch. There she lay on the sofa where she'd crashed mere hours ago, completely paralysed, and for a reason she couldn't quite determine, her heart was pounding as though she'd just finished running a marathon. Like her body was aware of something she was not. It quickly informed her of a terrible truth.

She was not alone.

Inevitably, she began to panic and her state was only made worse by the sinister presence she sensed in the room. She saw nothing, but she knew it was there. It crouched in the corner, hidden from her line of sight by the back of the couch, and slowly but surely she felt it creeping closer to where she lay trapped. She couldn't flee, she couldn't even call out for help. Just a scream would have sufficed, but she could do nothing.

It was almost on top of her now, waiting for the perfect moment to reveal itself and leer down at her with a horrific grin and eyes that burned a hellfire red. But just when she was sure she'd implode from terror, she found she was free of whatever was binding her. So relieved was Valentina, that she almost tripped over her own feet as she scrambled to find the light switch.

The room was illuminated, revealing nothing out of the ordinary and she shivered as she attempted to calm herself. Her efforts were for naught, however, when she heard a grunt come from outside her peripheral vision. Whirling around, she emitted a brief scream and flinched away from the intruder, only to recognise him as none other than the Boogeyman.

"Pitch?"

She stood rigid for a moment, trying to make sense of what she was seeing at 5:30am through the bleary eyes of interrupted sleep. He was standing in the corner, and she suspected he was to blame for the waking nightmare. Her voice cracked with disuse as she chastised him.

"You know, most would have the decency to use a door rather than sneaking in unannounced. But of course, look who I'm talking to."

It was only when he failed to respond with his usual causticity that she realised he was far from okay. He appeared to be having trouble detaching himself from the shadows that settled where the light couldn't reach, not that he was giving it much effort. Dark tendrils reached with greedy fingers for the drag of his cloak, like they were trying to pull him back to their realm. He looked weak and very much in pain.

"Oh no." She rushed over to him. "Pitch, what happened?" she gasped as she pulled him into the dimmed light of the room.

He made no answer, simply clenching his jaw and wincing. He didn't even seem to be aware of his surroundings, so she led him over to the couch and sat him down. He immediately hunched over and wrapped his arms around his chest, gripping his own shoulders until his knuckles became white.

"Can you tell me what's wrong?" she asked with measured urgency.

He made a short guttural noise before barely managing one word: "…hurts."

"What hurts?" she continued to question, and surprised herself by how calmly she was reacting.

With a fist he struck the left side of his chest, apparently in too much pain to say anything else. "Your… your heart?" she interpreted.

Now that she was more alert she could sense something was indeed very wrong, but that power wasn't enough to tell her _what_ from where she was standing. She would have to get closer. Wasting no time, she sank into the couch to face him and tried to move his arms which were currently obstructing her from her goal. Although he resisted, eventually she succeeded in having them crossed tightly over his abdomen instead — No easy feat when the lithe-limbed man was far stronger than he looked. She pressed a hand to his chest and closed her eyes to better concentrate.

Valentina wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but what she did find was completely astounding. Pitch's heart, as she already knew, had been cold and darkened long ago, and had remained that way for centuries. Possibly longer. Only, now it was starting to change. 'Thawing out' was the only way she could describe what she felt. His heart was quite literally coming back to life. But just as how frostbitten fingers could be warmed again, the process was proving to be agonisingly painful. And there was something else: A war was raging between nobility and malice as the two grappled for possession of him. She'd never come across anything like it. What truly stumped her though was why? Such a drastic change of heart usually needed an equally drastic motivator. Something potent and undeniable. A spring of hope, or a powerful memory were sometimes enough. But a fear of death was usually the culprit. That, or true love's kiss…

Her eyes flashed open to behold his pale, drawn face.

 _It couldn't be… Could it?_

No. Now was not the time to ponder what had done this to him. Now, Pitch needed her help.

She withdrew her hand and quickly made the few short steps to the desk she'd set up as her work space. Thankfully, there was nothing she could do to make it worse, as far as she knew, so perhaps she would be able to procure something to relieve him of discomfort instead. She was by no means an apothecary, but the substances she used could sometimes alleviate pain, if manipulated just right. At least if it failed the worst case scenario was only a bout of lovesickness. Though admittedly a lovesick Pitch Black would hardly be ideal either. She almost giggled at the thought.

 _Not now, Valentina, focus._

Amongst the clutter, she found a clean pot and went about formulating a cure for the strange affliction. Scanning the substances in front of her, she picked out what she needed.

 _Let me see. Essence of oxytocin, serotonin, that should do it, endorphins, maybe a bit of opium…_

Behind her, she heard Pitch groan at a startling volume.

 _…make that a lot of opium,_ she corrected herself with a grimace.

Quickly guessing and measuring the amounts, she added all these to the small pot and heated it over a burner for a minute. As the potion's temperature rose, the clear liquid clouded to lilac. _So far, so good_ , she reassured herself. She removed it and poured the contents into a flask which was ready to be administered, but not before she added a dash of her own magic to the brew with small wave of her hand. With that final touch, the lilac colouring shifted to a pastel pink, indicating that the opium she very rarely used had reacted successfully with her magic. Relieved, she brought it over to Pitch, who looked quite pale by this stage (if it was possible for him to become even more so), and held out the flask.

"Pitch?"

He didn't so much as look at her.

"Pitch, I made this to numb the pain. Can you drink it?"

Again, he failed to register being addressed. He did whisper something though, and she nearly dropped the potion as a result.

"Emily Jane."

Out of a sudden unease, she froze. Not only had he never mentioned anyone by that name before, but the name itself startled her into a chill for a reason she couldn't quite fathom. "No, not Emily Jane," she said gently when she'd recovered, "it's me, Valentina. Pitch, you need to drink this, it will make everything better, I promise."

He only ignored her. "My daughter… Emily Jane," he muttered feverishly.

If someone had told her at that moment an all powerful force had taken the world and flipped it upside-down, she would have believed them. Because that's exactly how she felt in hearing that minute detail.

 _A daughter. Pitch Black has a child!? When did this happen, and… how?_

She shook her head. Pondering the confounding subject of the Nightmare King's progeny would have to wait. Pitch was still yet to take the potion and she swore under her breath when she realised the only way he would was if it was forced down his throat. Lifting the flask to his lips, she tilted his head back so he might take as much as possible.

After a tense few minutes of carefully watching and waiting, he seemed to have returned to his own definition of normal. At the very least, she was satisfied he'd stopped convulsing. His eyes flickered to her, recognising her for the first time since his arrival.

"Valentina."

She gave him a weak smile though concern did not leave her. "Are you alright?"

He worked through a few more exhausted breaths before he answered her and gingerly placed a hand to his chest as a frown touched his mouth. "It doesn't hurt anymore," he noticed, and he pressed at it just to make sure. "You made it stop."

"I did?" She slumped on the spot as she released the breath she'd been holding. "Thank the Gods," she sighed.

"Actually, I'd rather thank you."

Being distracted as she was by the astonishing bombshell he'd managed to drop, her mind drew a blank before she fully understood what he was saying. "Oh. Well, of course. I mean — You're welcome," she replied in a fluster as she placed the flask on the mantle. But Pitch was seemingly oblivious to both her agitation and to what he'd just imparted. He settled back into the cushiony couch with a weary sigh and his eyes drooped closed, having found comfort for the first time in what Valentina could only guess had been hours. Try though he did, he simply couldn't fend off sleep.

"You should rest," she suggested, resigning herself to the fact that her many queries could wait until later.

With his eyes already shut, he merely nodded and was dead to the world within minutes.

She didn't want to leave him just yet, should he relapse while her back was turned. So instead she brought her desk chair by fire to wait with her thoughts while the rest of the North Pole rose to a new day. It was just as she quietly dragged her seat over that she noticed something very peculiar indeed. A bright, golden butterfly had appeared above the Nightmare King's head, and with it, the ghost of a smile upon his lips.

Two hours later, Valentina was returning from North's kitchens with a steaming mug of tea in hand, only to find Pitch had awoken. He was sitting forward, with his forearms arms braced against his knees while a deep frown obscured his features. His contemplative gaze shifted to her when she walked in.

"How are you feeling," she asked as she closed the door on the bustling noise that was already drifting up from the workshop.

"Better," he replied slowly, "Only…" he paused to consider the taste in his mouth and made a face. "I think I need a drink."

She glanced down at the mug and was jolted into an offering. "You can have this if you'd like. It's tea."

He quirked a brow. "Isn't that yours?"

"No, no, I uh… made it for you," she lied. "Just… here."

She placed it his hands and bit back a laugh at his startled expression. He soon shrugged and sipped at it to gradually wake himself up. How strange to see the once foreboding shade enjoy warm beverage, she mused.

"Thank you, Valentina," he said once he'd finished, "for everything."

"After what you did for me, it's the least I could do," she assured him, and perched upon her chair. Though she was far from reassured herself. Tension seized her as she mulled over certain snippets of their early morning encounter that had taken to rattling incessantly about her brain. There were questions she desperately wanted answers to, and now would likely be her only opportunity to get them. "Pitch, would you mind explaining a few things to me," she queried.

"If you specify what they are then perhaps I might," he replied more curtly than he'd intended. In an attempt to soften his retort he added, "what do you want to know?"

"You show up here at the strangest hour, you don't look like you have any idea where you are, and you still manage to find me. How?"

He was about to come back with a dismissive, simple answer when he found there was none. "I don't know," he admitted with a frown. "Before I left yesterday I thought I actually needed to get away from you."

She shot him a steely glare those words, which hurt after everything they'd been through. Then she remembered the kiss, the damage it might have caused him, and was only surprised that he hadn't shown up in more of a rage at the suffering he'd endured because of her.

"But then when I was alone I realised I needed to come back to you. I just have no idea how I got here."

"You really mean that?"

He held her gaze seriously and raised his brow slightly at her. She decided he was absolutely telling the truth. Her mouth quirked in a small smile before she moved on to her next question.

"Why was I frozen when I woke before?"

He startled in surprise. "You had sleep paralysis?"

She picked at wooden arm of the chair in recollection of her fright. "If that's what it's called, then yes."

He hummed thoughtfully. "I must have set it off by mistake. It's a trick of mine, something that usually happens when someone wakes mid-nightmare. It gives me a chance to draw on their fear quickly before they brush me aside," he explained flatly.

She crossed her arms. "Well, it was worse than a nightmare, that's for sure."

Although she looked thoroughly unimpressed, the fear spirit he was by nature was actually rather pleased by her feedback. So much so that he was caught completely off guard when she dropped her next point of inquiry.

"But what I'd like to know more than any of that," she pressed on, "is when you were going to tell me you have a daughter?"

The empty mug slipped from his grasp and fell to the floor with a clatter. He'd almost forgotten the dream and now it rushed back to him in a clarity that was sharper than crystal. The woman, the glass, and Emily Jane. "A daughter..." He stared at the flickering fire as the idea worked itself over in his head. "I have a daughter." Bit by bit, the fragments of memories long forgotten started to resurface and arrange themselves in a comprehensive narrative: The story of his life before fear. His face crumpled, drawn with grief as he recalled, after centuries of repression, the tragedy surrounding the lost little girl who had once been the centre of his universe.

Valentina on the other hand was simply baffled, and as she eyed him suspiciously, her apprehensive curiosity became angered disappointment. "Is that supposed to be news to you?"

"I'd forgotten," he said simply. As though even he was amazed by such cold-heartedness. "For so long I didn't want to remember…" He trailed off. "But I had a dream. And not just any dream as far as I know. It was a vision. I found a woman, who carried a doll with her and at first I though her dead. She crumbled to dust right in front of me. But then she spoke to me. She implored me to remember her, and to be brave like I taught Emily Jane. Like _I_ taught her."

Valentina's initial anger subsided when she pieced together that for Pitch to have taught

anything to this girl he would have had to have known her. She had assumed that he, like so many cowardly men she'd observed, might have left the mother of his daughter alone after a night together and the idea had made her blood boil. She'd seen it happen far too often, and each man who left his lover with child and without a care enraged her to no end. She didn't care what Pitch's past entailed, it was the very thing she was trying to see beyond, however for him to have done something like that would have been one of the lowest acts she could think of. She was firmly of the opinion that no parent should abandon their children. Not unless they had to.

"How can you just forget something like that," she marvelled in an aghast whisper.

"I told you. I didn't want to remember."

"But she's your daughter!"

"I had to!" he cried wretchedly. A sharp silence hung between them, rancid with sorrow. "…I had to… Something terrible happened to her, and it was because of me," he croaked. "Valentina, I'm sure you think there's a way the world should be, but some things are too painful to bear. My grief ruined me! You couldn't know what that's like — how could you possibly?"

Then, with eyes finally wide open, Valentina was granted insight into the Nightmare King's most personal tragedy.

"The world you know is but an insignificant speck this galaxy, and there used to be much more to it than just Earth. Planets, constellations, moons! — they were all home to, and ruled by powerful noble families. The innovative thrived in a culture of knowledge and a drive to uncover the greatest mysteries of the universe. This was a time known as the Golden Age and it's long since passed. I was a general in the military, and I was tasked with leading defences against the Dream Pirates and fearlings: A vile army that plundered and pillaged every planet their fleet of galleons darkened. We were usually successful in our efforts to stave them back, and for that reason things became personal. I had a family, one that I loved more than life itself. I had a daughter, and a wife — yes, Valentina, I too was once capable of love — they were everything to me. But the Dream Pirates also knew this. They lured me away from them with an ambush and by the time I realised…" He choked back a sob, and Valentina could only listen in horror with a hand clasped over her mouth.

"Everything becomes hazy after that, but I know that I vowed to guard against the fearlings so none would have to live through what I did. But even despite my efforts they tricked me. Those depraved savages stole her voice and conned me into opening that door. That's when I became _this._ "

Valentina's hand gripped the arm of the chair in horrible fascination. Not only had Pitch once had a family of his own, he had been _human._ Not some shapeless entity that just decided humans were grand enough to mould himself in their image. As well as this, her mind boggled as she considered the immense age to which he had existed. She could not confidently say he'd 'lived'; Surviving as he did on scraps of childish fear whilst shouldering such a burden was not the same as living.

"I don't understand, you told me you chose to take a human form," she spluttered.

"And you told me I couldn't lie to myself. Well take a good look, my dear, because that lie fooled both of us. I fabricated a new history, I willed myself to remember a past that never existed. It's a curious thing, the power of the mind. The power of being disturbed by something so strongly you can pretend it never happened. Some things are lies we tell ourselves because the truth hurts too much, and if they're said often enough eventually we find ourselves believing them."

"But you remember everything now?"

His eyes were downcast in anguish. "Not everything. I remember my daughter in bits and pieces, here and there. However, I cannot remember her mother at all."

Suddenly it clicked. "The woman," she cried, "the woman who spoke to you. That has to be her! She was carrying a doll, she was the one who told you about Emily Jane -"

"Very good, Valentina, I did also come to the same conclusion," he said with an edge of frustration, "but to me that is simply a matter of fact, I still have no memory of her. It's as though she's a complete stranger. And there's more: She said though she was running out of time, she would find me again. Except I have no idea what that could mean."

"Find you? But that doesn't make any sense, she's just a figment of your imagination, or a memory at the most, isn't she?"

"Maybe. And maybe not. Just because a dream exists in your mind, doesn't make it any less real."

Poor Valentina had to suppress a nausea rose up from the pit of her gut. If this woman was to Pitch what the Guardian of Love thought she was, then she didn't doubt they would find each other again. Soulmates had a habit of circling back to each other, no matter the circumstances, for they had been made of the same stardust back when the universe was nothing but, and that energy was never destroyed. It just became something else in an endless cycle of being parted only to find its way back. The idea of soulmates was something she took very seriously, and it would be negligent of her to tamper with their course. She was supposed to help. It was her duty. But dare she admit it to herself, she was more then just fond of Pitch Black, and that's why it crushed her to think he had a bond so much stronger with another. So, of everything that he'd revealed to her, there was one thing she still needed to hear from him.

"You did love her though?"

She evaluated him carefully, looking for any sort of sign that would betray his true emotions, but in the end she didn't need to. He withheld nothing in his answer.

"That much I do know. Whoever she was, I loved her with all my heart."

* * *

The Guardians became a near constant presence at the North Pole over the following week and as a result, everyone began to struggle against almost palpable tensions. With the Night-Mares still on a rampage, they endeavoured to make regular field trips as a unit to put an end to the problem, but it seemed that no matter how many mares they managed to destroy, more would keep reappearing. Even more frustrating to them was the fact that Pitch did not seem to be the culprit at large. Most nights they were forced to retreat, much to their chagrin, but as much as they could have used an extra helping hand, Valentina's declination to join them was often met with little protest. No one was ready to tempt fate just yet should things be made even worse.

Then there was the matter of the Nightmare King, himself. He seldom left Valentina's side, lurking by her as she built on her plans for Valentine's Day in the south wing. The entire arrangement left North highly unsettled. He couldn't help but feel his realm had become haunted when traces of Pitch seemed to linger, giving the Russian cause to jump at every shadow that crept along the walls, only to find they were usually his own. True to their word, however, all parties maintained their cold civility, achievable only because they tried to avoid each other as much as they possibly could. For the Boogeyman, this was easier said than done. He was one against five, therefore he was bound to run in to any one of them far more than he would have liked.

All the while, Valentina maintained her efforts to keep to herself. At first she'd become withdrawn in her jealousy of this woman who, for all intents and purposes, hadn't existed until Pitch dreamed her into being. But the fractures she bore quickly reminded her, like a ticking time bomb, that if she let it get the better of her — if she didn't focus — it really would be the death of her. So she trudged on. Yet still he was with her. It perplexed her as to why he hadn't simply disappeared after everything that had happened, and after a few days of trying to shut herself off from reading his desires (a pass time that had been of great fascination to her up until that early morning), at last she peered into the heart of the Nightmare King.

To her pleasant surprise, she found the affection he had for her hadn't changed in the slightest. What he did now desire though, was to remember as much as he could about the mother of Emily Jane, and she could see there were times when it deeply saddened him that he couldn't. As well as this, there was a pining for the daughter he'd once had and Valentina found she wanted to know more about this little girl. In a way she couldn't describe, she needed to know more. Initially her interest had been met with an anguished scowl, and she scolded herself for being so insensitive. But little by little, over the course of several days, Pitch began to weave the tale of Emily Jane — What he could remember of her at least.

"She was very bright for her age," he volunteered abruptly one morning as she showed him the basics of how she made L'amour.

Caught unawares, she eyed him quizzically.

"Emily Jane," he explained, holding up one of the bottles to squint at its pearlescent contents. "She was so curious about everything. Always asking questions. If she'd seen anything like this she'd be beside herself until you showed her how it was done."

She couldn't help but smile as she listened, feeling oddly proud that what she did might have fascinated his daughter. A little girl with bright, intelligent eyes immediately came to mind and had she known this girl, she suspected they would have gotten along nicely. She herself had always wanted better her knowledge of the world around her.

"How old was she?" Valentina asked without thinking.

The weariness returned to his drawn face. "She was only six."

After that slip of the tongue he'd withdrawn immediately, and she was no longer welcome to query the subject. Eventually he would impart other anecdotes, but it took time. Sometimes, when Valentina was more confident she wouldn't say something too thoughtless, she would prompt him with a question. Even so, he would answer some more readily than others.

"Do you think she was very much like you?" she asked one evening as she examined her bow by the fire and tightened the string.

Evidently, it was the right question to pose, for there was pride in his smile as he considered this. In fact, it was the first genuine smile she'd ever seen from him.

"I'd like to think so," he said from the couch where he observed her, "the man I once was, perhaps. She had this spirit about her. You know, the adventurous kind. So for her fifth birthday I gave her a schooner which she would take out to explore the surroundings of the moon we lived on. She would often copy me like that. I think she saw me leave to go on these noble quests and she wanted join me. Oh, I wanted to take her too. But I would never. These journeys weren't just some big adventure. I saw brutality beyond measure and it was that which I most wanted to shield her from. One day she nearly went too far outside our orbit and would have been vulnerable to an attack should the Dream Pirates have spotted her. It scared me half to death, so I told her, I said, 'Emily Jane, you must promise me to never go beyond that asteroid belt unless I am with you.' And the way her lip started to tremble when she thought I was disappointed in her! Can you believe it? As though I could ever be disappointed…"

She couldn't believe it. Pitch's thoughts seemed to have run away with him again, and when this happened Valentina had learned to listen with the utmost attention. This was a side of him she was certain he'd never let anyone see, and one that she was pretty sure he didn't even know he had until recently. She wondered if perhaps he would have been so generous with these stories if his heart had been just as shrivelled as when she'd first encountered him. She wondered if he would have remembered at all.

Usually, however, the most touching revelations came to Pitch suddenly, when he was engaged in something completely unrelated, triggering another detail to emerge from his subconscious. One such instance occurred in searching for a book title at her request, when he came across one that seized his attention. He pulled it from the shelf and flicked through the pages with a silence that was almost reverent.

"What've you got there?" she inquired from the desk as she slouched over a list.

"A book," he replied quietly.

Giving a small chuckle, she rolled her eyes. "I can see that." She got up from her seat, came over to where he stood, and craned her neck to look at the open page. "They're children's stories?" She raised an eyebrow.

"I read these to her."

 _Oh,_ she realised. When he offered nothing else she impelled him with a question. "All of them?"

"Hm? Oh, yes. All of them," he answered, slightly shaking his head of the daydream. "One day, she made herself a fort out of blankets and chairs. It made a mess of her room, but it was impressive none the less. She came running to me with this book and grabbed me by the hand, and tugged me all the way back to show me her masterpiece. She asked if I liked it. I told her it was grander than anything to rival the galactic armada. Then she demanded in her own charming way that I read the stories to her. I was supposed to be leaving for a weeklong voyage the next day, and I should have been preparing myself. But how could I say no? — She was very persuasive. So I crawled in after her and I spent the rest of the afternoon reading her stories, and changing the endings when we didn't like one. She had a lamp with her and she would make shadow puppets on the sheets as I read."

He closed the book with a soft snap. Though his hold on it only tightened as he clinched it to himself.

"I think that day I was almost the happiest I've ever been. At least it was almost enough to make me forget we were verging on war at the time."

And yet, Valentina had never seen a more solemn look on the Nightmare King's face.

Pitch had been human once. He'd been a doting father to a daughter whom he seemed to have loved with unparalleled admiration, made even more extraordinary by the fact that he'd never wanted children to begin with. He'd had a family. Although she should have been deterred by these things, Valentina felt it only made her admire him even more and it broke her heart to think he'd lost everything.

Furthermore, Pitch's stories of this child had irrevocably captivated the Guardian of Love. They occupied her thoughts constantly, regardless of what she was doing. The strange obsession got to the extent that she honestly couldn't remember the difference between what he'd divulged, and what she had simply imagined.

Her dreams each night, which were already confusing to begin with, became even more distorted in odd retellings of these episodes. In some of them she imagined herself there in the room; Watching him play with a toddler on the floor of a nursery, barely two years old, their peals of laughter merging together in a strange, sweet sound; Running alongside Pitch as he chased after the little rascal who held something aloft in a game of keep-away; Peering into his arms as he held the tiny baby girl, his face a mixture of fear and love of this little creature only recently welcomed into the world.

One night, Valentina's imagination went as far disregarding his former wife, so as to put herself in her place. Even as she slept she felt like an imposter, and she tried to will herself out, but the dream continued in disjointed fragments; Cradling the raven haired girl of about four, who missed her father so much; Making a mess of the kitchen as they tried something out of a book of experiments, and giggling in excitement as the solution popped and fizzed with a dazzling display; Feeing worried sick when she couldn't find the girl anywhere, searching endless empty rooms; Staring at her own reflection in a mirror and running her hands lightly over the slight bulge of her usually flat stomach as another wave of nausea passed, wondering how she was going to tell him, knowing it wouldn't stay a secret for long…

* * *

"Tooth, I'm going out of my mind," Valentina confided in her friend with a groan, as well as a rather dramatic flop onto her couch. She face planted with limbs splayed out and the fairy patted her on the shoulder with a titter at her melodrama.

"Val, I know you're stressed, but look everything you've done!"

With a glance around the room it was evident Valentina had been busy. Anonymous notes, bouquet arrangement plans, cards, and bottles of her love potion were organised into mountainous piles. The Tooth Fairy herself had been feeling better in recent days thanks to the persistence of her mini-fairies, who diligently and valiantly reassured the children with a quarter that even in this seemingly bleak time, they were still being looked after. As such, she was now successfully hovering, rather than being floor-bound as she had been a few days ago. Things were starting to look up, she thought.

"You're doing great. Although, you should probably try getting out there and actually seeing the kids some time," she hinted none too gently to remind her that part of being a Guardian was understanding the children she was supposed to be protecting.

"…I might have been putting that off," came her muffled, reluctant reply before she dragged herself to sit upright."But that not what's bothering me."

Tooth's spritely mood and encouraging smile immediately faltered. "What's going on?" she asked with a concerned tilt of her head.

Valentina bit her lip in hesitation, but she was desperate to talk to someone. So she told Tooth everything; How Pitch had shown up almost a full day after Christmas looking like death warmed up, that his heart that was literally coming back to life, about his unwitting utterance of fathering a child, his long lost wife, and the dreams the followed her around like a ball and chain. Well, she almost told everything. She was _not_ about to mention the kiss. That was one detail that would only bring about trouble. None the wiser, Tooth's violet eyes grew wide enough to resemble saucers as she listened. When it was her turn to speak she flittered back and forth and considered everything Valentina had said.

"I'm just going to start with the fact that you sleep way too much. We aren't technically supposed to need sleep all that often, but you're doing it every night — That's not normal. And the dreams are strange, but I don't really have an answer for you there. You'd be better taking to Sandy about that…I'm just surprised Pitch actually told you about Emily Jane."

"He didn't mean to. He was delirious and I had to — Wait… I never said her name was Emily Jane, how do you know that?"

Tooth shifted uncomfortably with a grimace, realising she may have said too much. "Uh, well…" she stalled sheepishly, smoothing back her feathered crown, "we kind of already knew about her."

"Excuse me?"

Tooth waved a dismissive hand through the air, which the flabbergasted spirit was not placated by in the slightest. "In the past we've had a few run-ins with her," she tried to shrug off. "She's not like Pitch at all, but she's not exactly friendly either. She's always had a soft spot for Sandy though…"

"I'm going to stop you right there," Valentina spoke softly with all the calmness of a storm about to break. "Do you mean to tell me that this kid is alive?"

"She's not exactly a kid anymore," Tooth giggled in uncontrollable nervousness "What do you mean? Of course she's alive."

Valentina blinked up at the fairy in utter disbelief. "Tooth… Pitch thinks she's _dead._ He thinks she died in a raid at age six."

"What!?" Her jaw dropped open. "But - But he knows she's alive! He's spoken to her. At the Battle of Punjam Hy Loo, she even swooped in to save him even though she was the one that told Sandy that he was beyond hope," she recounted as she whirled about the space in confusion.

"He doesn't remember any of that," she stressed.

Tooth came to a halt and narrowed her eyes searchingly. "Are you sure?"

The sincerity in Valentina's tone was undeniable as she appealed to the fairy. "I know you think he's nothing more than a snake in the grass," she acknowledged, "but you haven't seen what this has done to him. It's like he catches a glimpse of his old self, only to be crippled by the reminder that what made him happy will never belong to him ever again." It was only when she said it out loud that she realised just why Pitch had told her to never suppress fear; Like his grief, it would return with a vengeance and tear any remaining sanity to shreds. "We have to tell him."

The fairy's face darkened as she considered what had not occurred to Valentina. She knew the power of memories, how the slightest recollection could take a person back to a place they had never wished to revisit for as long as they lived. The thought of Pitch having forgotten his own daughter sickened her, yes, but he was dark man, with horrors in his past that could disturb even those with the strongest of stomachs. With that in mind she concluded that some memories — and some people — were better left untouched.

"Don't you think there might be a reason why he tried to forget?" she cautioned.

"Maybe, and I know it's going to hurt him to remember, but this heartache won't pass unless he does. I can't let him live a lie like this, not when there's a chance he could have at least part of his family back. Even if it means…" she trailed off.

"Val, if he really has forgotten, there's no way he'd believe me. And I know he seems to trust you — if someone like Pitch could actually trust anyone — but this would be so huge for him, he might not believe you either."

"So we need proof. Something irrefutable." She paced as she plotted, but nothing concrete came to mind. "Can we find her? Surely she has to have been around somewhere this whole time?"

Tooth simply shook her head. "She's not an easy spirit to find. And she's even more difficult to pin down. I only ever get a sense that she's near by, but she has never revealed herself to me. Even Sandy hasn't seen or heard from her since the War of Dreams."

"Gods be damned," she muttered.

"…There is something that might convince him, though."

Valentina looked sharply to the fairy, who almost recoiled from her scrutiny. "Tooth, if you've been keeping anything else from me, I swear - "

"No! No, I only thought of it just now," she reassured her, though her reluctance was plain. "I'd just hoped I wouldn't have to touch that thing ever again… I have to go back to the palace, in the mean time you see if you can track down Pitch."

The Tooth Fairy then disappeared in a vortex of light particles before the perplexed Valentina could open her mouth and ask what this 'thing' actually was.


	14. For good or ill

**A/N:**

 **TW: Domestic Violence -** this is a serious issue, and I don't include it simply for shock value, I just feel it's important to mention for the story's sake as it gives some context as to why Valentina is the way she is. As always, if anything's taken in distaste, please tell me and ill endeavour to change it.

 **REVIEWS:**

 **Crossover Junkie:** Yes, I might have backed myself into a corner there, but I wriggled out. To be fair, both back stories are fascinating, why not do both? Good to know, I'll keep my mouth shut :) I should really read Percy Jackson. You should run with that, its sounds like it would have a lot of merit!

 **EmberBeastie:** Your reaction was perfect, I loved getting your review! So glad you enjoyed it.

 **Skyress1:** It really doesn't, and I'm afraid things are about to get worse before they get better. You know the hardest part about this is psychoanalysing everyone. Figuring out motives and objectives for each of them. I guess I'm trying to stay true to something like repressed memories, as much as my limited perspective allows. The psychology behind these characters are why they worked so well in the first place. As for Val and Pitch, I know they keep dancing around it, but patience, it will be worth it :) Thanks once again for your lovely review.

* * *

Ambling past the kitchens just offside North's main workshop, Jack had to do a double take when he spied an ominous figure stalking back and forth, clouded by frustration as it searched for something. He stood silently by the doorframe, carefully watching the Boogeyman for any evidence of devious intentions, which were still entirely possible as far as he was concerned.

"What are you doing?" he eventually asked, not bothering to veil his suspicions.

From behind, Jack saw his shoulders tense.

This wasn't the first time he'd caught Pitch in the middle of something unexpectedly mundane. Two days ago he'd gone back to the store cupboard to find some twine to fix the leg of his trousers after snagging it on a tree branch, and was startled to find the Nightmare King already lurking in there.

"Hey! When North said you were welcome here, he didn't mean in his supplies,"Jack had growled, pointing the crook of his staff at the fear spirit.

"Easy," Pitch had ordered, raising his hands in jest and surrendering a borrowed clipboard. "I'm just taking an inventory. That's hardly a crime now is it?"

"If it's done by you? Probably. What do _you_ want with an inventory?"

"It's not for me, it's part of the plan, which I believe is being affectionately referred to as 'Operation Second Chance'. While it's not the most exciting task it is prudent to know exactly what we have at our disposal. Why waste resources when we needn't? Many brilliant military strategies were flawed by shoddy logistics. You only need to look at the British and the length of time it took them to ship supplies to the American colonies; it was a disaster. This on the other hand is hardly war, but the same principle applies. You forget about logistics and you lose. Now if you'll excuse me…"

Jack made no response at the time other than to gawp at the apparent war strategist. Really, he shouldn't have been surprised, Pitch never attacked anything without a plan.

Meanwhile the Nightmare King's prickly demeanour returned. "Didn't anyone ever tell you, Jack? It's rude to stare."

His mouth still hung open with an unintelligent countenance. "You're really just writing a list?"

"YES. Now stop staring!"

Jack had walked away scratching his head, jarred by the ordinariness of it all…

Now Pitch turned to face him with a look that bespoke tired irritation.

"Frost. Just who I wasn't looking for." Far from being in the mood for a verbal joust, he returned to rummaging through draws as Jack looked on in bemusement.

"What are you doing?" he asked again, this time out of genuine curiosity.

Pitch let out a sigh that sounded far more like the growl of a beast. "I'm making coffee."

"Coffee?"

"Must we go through this every time… Yes, Jack, coffee. " By this stage he was close to grinding his teeth blunt.

The winter sprite scrunched his nose and screwed up his lips as he watched the perplexing display of the Nightmare King brewing with a small percolator he'd found over the stove and ground beans from a packet that must have belonged to North. There was nothing to do then but wait as it boiled over an open flame, and not once during those three minutes did the two break their tense appraisals of each other. Only when the little metal jug whistled did Pitch adjourn his scowling. Tending to it, he poured himself a small cup - an espresso shot. He took a sip of the scalding beverage and welcomed the bitter aroma of arabica, leaning into sharp taste and closing his eyes as it temporarily warmed him.

"Since when do you drink coffee?"

His eyes flashed open and he worked his jaw. So many questions from the boy! "Since my residence beneath Venice has provided me with an appreciation for the stuff."

Jack was taken aback by this. "Your lair is in Burgess, not Italy," he argued with a frown.

"That's where you'd be quite wrong," he snickered. "That little town is just one of many entrances to my domain."

He blinked. "But we found our way to you from there, and there's no way we could have travelled that far in the space of a few minutes."

"You did so because I knew you were coming. I commanded your passage through the labyrinth, and you should be so lucky. I could have had you wandering lost for an eternity." At this he chuckled darkly. "The shadow realm bends to my will, as does anything composed of the dark matter found beneath the Earth's surface. I'd have thought you'd realised that by now, Jack. Don't you remember?"

Pitch's allusion took him back to the night he'd been beckoned by the call of his little sister, only to be taunted by his worst fears, and to have them come true Easter morning. He'd been thrown about relentlessly, tumbling though darkness at the Nightmare King's fancy, never certain where he was going to land.

"Yeah, I do."

There followed a stiff silence between them. Pitch found himself staring into his cup with an unreadable expression, gauging his reflection in the dark Italian brew. With a glance at Jack, who glared fixedly at him with unresolved resentment, he proceeded contrary to his vexation that had first begun with the boy's rejection six years ago.

"Would you like some?"

The offer was abrupt as it was abrasive, and it took Jack longer than it should have to realise what he was referring to.

"Of the… coffee?"

Pitch pinched the bridge of his nose and forced himself not to roll his eyes, lest he detach a retina. "Yes. The coffee." When the frosty haired sprite narrowed his piercing cerulean eyes in skepticism, he added, "oh please, it's not like I've poisoned it. I'd have to ask Valentina for something like that, and somehow I don't think she'd approve," he said, dispelling the doubt with a dose of black humour. He went ahead and poured another cup.

"I've never tried it," Jack admitted with reservation.

"Then I insist."

Pitch's lips curled as he held out the drink, but his his expression was not unkind. If anything, there was a hint of remorse that disarmed the winter spirit.

Taking it, he eyed the dark beverage dubiously before downing the entire thing with the same voracity that one might rip off a bandaid. His face contorted, at first from the scalding temperature, and then because of the strong kick.

"Careful, it's hot." Pitch looked on with amusement as Jack shuddered and came to terms with the favour.

"You didn't want to mention that before," he complained of a burnt tongue, the heat disagreeing with the iciness that made up his entire being.

"I could have," he shrugged, "but I think a lesson in caution is far more valuable. Besides," he added with a chuckle, "I didn't tell you to throw it back like a shot of tequila. So, what do you think?"

"It's… not so bad… once you get past the bitterness," he reviewed between smacks of his lips.

"It's an acquired taste-"

They heard her before they saw her. Frantic footsteps sprinted toward the kitchen followed by a blur of red and pink that came tumbling through the doorway, nearly knocking Jack off his feet.

"Val?"

She was gasping slightly, having run all over the place trying to find Pitch, who could be incredibly elusive when he wanted.

"Valentina, is everything alright?" he asked, making his way over. She wasn't afraid for her life, he determined, so that wasn't the reason she came hurtling in like a tornado. But simply reading her face wasn't enough, she seemed concerned and definitely rather shaken but… hopeful?

"I've been looking every where for you," she panted.

"My dear, I've been right here. What's the matter with you?"

"I'm fine, just let me… is that coffee?" she deviated, spying the percolator. Talking Pitch's empty cup, she fetched herself some and drank it down.

"It was," Pitch replied with a hint of disappointment.

With her breath having fully restored itself and her thirst sated, Valentina could focus on why she'd come to find him in the first place and put the cup back on the bench. "Pitch, would you mind coming up stairs? I think there's something you need to hear."

It was not, apparently, a request. She took his arm and towed him away from where he'd been leaning against the bench. He shot Jack an astounded glance, and the boy shrugged helplessly in reply. The invitation hadn't explicitly excluded him so he decided to follow.

They made it to the landing in time to see Tooth materialising in the globe room. In her hand she held a little, wooden box.

"Would someone explain to me what the meaning of this is?" Pitch demanded irritably when Valentina neglected to divulge exactly what was so urgent. He abhorred being the one kept in the dark and was getting very close to loosing his temper.

"We will," Valentina assured him, "Tooth, did you find what you were looking for?"

The fairy held up the box and gave it a small shake. Something rattled from within. "I got it."

This did nothing to ease his confusion and being unable to make heads or tails of the situation, Pitch had had enough. "I won't ask again!" he said dangerously.

At this, Valentina turned to face him and placed a soothing hand on his arm. "I'm sorry I've been so cryptic but we need you keep a level head. Will you please do that? For me?" she appealed with tentative smile.

He released an exasperated sigh. "Yes, if it will speed things up, then fine. But be warned," he directed to the others, "my patience has a limit."

"And a short one at that," Tooth agreed. Without ceremony, she proceeded to open the box, and from it she retrieved a small object - a single tooth.

"Is that what I think it is?" Jack moved closer to examine it.

The tooth was no child's, it was an adult molar extracted some time ago, and although it wasn't rotten it's owner had apparently never placed a high level of value on orthodontia.

"Yes, it is." She held it out to the Nightmare King. "Look familiar, Pitch?"

Realising it was is very own, he snatched it from the fairy's possession and eyed it closely, absentmindedly rubbing his jaw from where the molar had come. His eyes snapped back up to her. "Are you here to gloat, Toothiana?" he challenged.

Feeling as though she must have missed something, Valentina interjected, "gloat about what exactly?"

Tooth returned his lour in defiance. "I might have punched him some time ago. In the face."

The Guardian of Love gave a tetchy groan. "And you knocked out a tooth? Was that really necessary?

Tooth hardened her resolve. "He had it coming," she sniffed and Pitch's eyes narrowed to slits as considered the plethora of ways he could repay her.

"Ok, enough," Valentina adjudicated quickly, sensing that old grievances were about to make themselves known, which would leave her the one ending up worse for wear. "Can we get to the part where this is supposed to be _helpful_?" She shot an arched look at her friend.

"Right," Tooth grimaced. "Well, after that happened I decided to keep the tooth with me, because honestly I thought it would be fascinating to study. I know all the memory properties of baby teeth, but don't tend to get a lot of adult teeth my way, least of all ones that have seen as much history as this one, or ones that belonged to someone in the possession of magic. I had to take it, the doors it could open up, it was like a gold mine-"

"It thrills me to know my pain brought you hours of entertainment," Pitch interrupted sharply, "but would you mind getting to the point?"

"The point, Pitch, is that it's been brought to my attention that you only know select details about your daughter, Emily Jane, and have forgotten everything else. But we are very fortunate as I've found adult teeth do contain some memories, even if they aren't as pure. Yours were something else entirely," she suppressed a shudder, "but they're there."

"You told her?" he hissed to Valentina, "why would you bring her into this?"

"Because I thought she could help," she retaliated sternly.

"I don't need help with anything, I know my daughter." he retorted indignantly.

"Not as well as you think. You've convinced yourself of such a lie that you've completely warped your own sense of reality. What you know, I'm told, is not the whole story. And this hurt, this pain you feel won't heal itself until you figure that out. You need to remember what really happened, Pitch, you need to be brave."

It was the conclusion of her appeal that most resonated with him, and her words melded with those of the Woman's soul.

"To be brave…" he muttered and said to Valentina gently, almost pleadingly, "what could be so important that you can't just tell me yourself?"

She glanced at Tooth, hesitating briefly. "If those memories are going to show you what we think they will, it might be best to hear it from them."

He sensed her fear growing stronger by the second and yet she was encouraging him onward, with this endeavour providing her no end of dread. Did she think it would tell him something about his wife? Whatever it may be, she was trying to hold her ground, to be his rock in a tumultuous sea, doing so, he discerned, because this really was for his sake. Or so she thought. He was struck by her selflessness, having never stopped to think that someone might endure self-sacrifice for him the way she so willingly seemed to. It had to be something pivotal. With a deep breath he complied.

"Alright," he said.

Valentina had never seen Pitch look frightened before, and if the eyes were the windows to the soul, then the fear she saw in them was very real. So recognising that the prospect of finally knowing the truth terrified him, she reached for his hand and clasped it tightly in hers..

Tooth flew over and gestured to have the molar, which he gave languidly to her.

"I know we've been at odds forever, and I really don't know how Val can stand you…"

"Rest assured, the feeling is mutual."

"…but it's my job to help people remember what's important, and I'm not about to make an exception."

Pitch didn't respond, but his silence was one of appreciation. He couldn't be sure how to express gratitude, let alone to someone who had made it her mission to bring him down as far as he would stoop. He settled for a curt nod.

Tooth enclosed the molar in her hands and muttered something inaudible. She then returned it to him.

"You know what to do?" she asked.

"If I recall correctly," he confirmed. With the tooth hidden in the palm of his fist, he placed it against his forehead and shut his eyes tight.

* * *

 _Darkness enveloped his senses. All he had to orientate himself was the sensation of motion, and he was moving quickly. Coming to a sudden, but gentle, stop, it was only when the world was revealed to him, as though being unveiled by the whip of a cloak, that he understood he'd landed in the midst of a woodland clearing. The ground beneath him was a combination of earth and water, though curiously the two never mixed. The trees around him were dense and seemed to be preempting his every move as they swayed in the wind. To his surprise they brought forward, with their winding, wandering vines, a girl. A prisoner. She struggled and fought, and when she laid eyes on him there was both fear and pity in her appraisal. They'd met before. Her gaze shifted to something over his shoulder and he turned to behold a willowy young woman who held herself with a regal dignity. Her raven hair and cloaking melded together, making her appear all the more intimidating as they billowed majestically in the breeze. Her regard was what ensnared him though, cold as ice with nothing but scornful betrayal._

 _"You saved me," he heard himself say._

 _"_ _No," she rejected venomously, "it was the girl who saved you. The one_ you _would make your darkling princess."_

 _He glanced over to the prisoner, who appeared to have given up the struggle. That girl? He failed to recall who she was supposed to be to him, let alone what was so special about her, but at least the name 'Katherine' came to mind._

 _"_ _Had you forgotten me?" The woman demanded angrily when his attention wandered. "Your own daughter!"_

 _Emily Jane. She was alive! But his little girl, once so wild and joyful, had grown up cold and bitter. How could this be?_

 _"No! I never for a moment forgot you," he cried. Though the words had been true once, they now tasted acrid as he realised, to his great shame, that he'd since done exactly that._

 _"_ _Then why did you not come for me?"_

 _She had been missing. That's right, she didn't perish with her mother, she'd escaped somehow, only to be lost in the eternity of space for the ten years that followed. He'd left no stone unturned in his quest to bring her home, relentless in his search. Until…_

 _"_ _I tried! I tried… For so long I tried -" his voice broke off in anguish. She had to understand. He'd never given up hope. But space was expansive and she could have been anywhere in the deepest reaches of the galaxy. He'd been fruitless in finding her, not until he'd heard her dreams, a plea to be rescued, thinking that a Dream Master had only sent them to taunt him. As the newly awakened Nightmare King he'd sought out their source with harmful intent. If only he'd known she'd been there all along, hiding with The Sandman from the monstrosity he'd been reduced to._

 _"_ _You failed me, Father."_

 _These words cut him deeper than a knife, yet he knew they were true. He felt his heart shatter, just as it had the first time he'd heard her say them._

 _She stood stoically, exceedingly calm as around them a gentle snow fall strengthened into a blizzard. "I was lost. I had nothing but my rage at you to feed me." She started towards him and he cowered away from the force of nature she'd become. "I came to your aid only out of… curiosity. To see how a once-great man could become so fallen and low. You will receive only indifference from me Father. I will neither help nor hinder you. I demand only one thing for my neutrality: You cannot make this girl yours. Not ever. Leave her be, or I will destroy you. I am your only daughter, for good or ill."_

 _He would have done anything to have her back in that moment, thrown himself at her feet and begged for forgiveness, proclaimed that she could never be replaced, and promised to love her as the doting Father he'd once been. But he felt his facial features twist into a malicious, spiteful sneer beyond his control as he eyed the girl still held captive._

 _"_ _Yes, my daughter. I will not touch her."_

 _..._

 _He tried to free himself, but he was trapped, sinking in quicksand that held fast to his legs, unrelenting in its grip. The more he struggled, the quicker he lost the battle. Before him stood Emily Jane once again, enraged, wrathful, and looking daggers at him. He could only guess at this stage what he might have done to anger her._

 _"_ _I had only one condition, just one, and still you failed to meet it," she accused scathingly, somewhat amazed at how despicable he'd become._

 _"_ _I did as you asked," he heard himself justify desperately, "I never made her mine. How could I? You were - you are - my daughter. The only one there ever will be. True to my word, I did not lay a finger on her."_

 _"_ _But you still thought it wise to damn her to an eternity of nightmares? To encase her in a tomb of her own fear? I told you to leave her alone. I made myself clear that you were to have nothing to do with her."_

 _"_ _What does it matter? She is nothing to me," he stressed as the quicksand crept up past his waist. "I only did it to get back at Tzar Lunar's new henchmen, the cossack man and the rabbit. And to survive! I needed her fear, you don't know what I have to do just for mere subsistence."_

 _"_ _You dare lie to me, Father?" Her voice dropped dangerously low. "I heard your intentions. The girl is without her parents, without family of her own, and you offered her the one thing she longs for the most. But it was not her desire that drove you to this, it was yours. I know it was not just a ploy. As long as you think she might be able fill that void of many years ago, she will never just be nothing."_

 _"_ _No! That's not true-"_

 _"_ _Know that you have wronged me!" she shrieked. With her unforgiving gaze fixed on his shrunken form slipping beneath the sand, Emily Jane conveyed the finality of her decision. "From this day onward we are no longer allied and my neutrality will cease. My greatest friend, my father, you are no more and I will ensure you live out the rest of your days in isolation. If I find you look with even a hint of kindness upon another, or they you, there will be a price to pay and that I promise…"_

* * *

Pitch wrenched the memories away emitting a short but terrible noise that was somewhere between a sob and a scream. He held his fist out in front of him, staring at it affronted and devastated. It was so tightly clenched that he could feel the tooth inside it begin to cut through his skin. When spoke, his voice was horse, strangled by the lump in his throat.

"Why would you show me this? WHY!?"

The others had not been privy to what was disclosed, and his outcry had startled them into a collective stupor. Although she moved her lips, words failed Valentina. She stood there, opening and closing her mouth, looking every bit the fish out of water she felt.

"Pitch, I'm sorry," Tooth eventually managed, but if he heard her apology it was blatantly ignored.

"How could you…" He'd cast aside Valentina's hand and was clawing at his scalp. "How could you?"

"Pitch," Valentina coaxed in her naivety, "she's alive, isn't that all that matters?"

"She is alive," he said heaving a ragged breath, "but I would be better off dead."

They could have been forgiven in thinking Pitch was about to inflict untold damage upon anything within thirty feet as his face grew utterly expressionless, save for a darkness that crossed his features like an eclipse. But he was exhausted, and in admitting defeat for the second time in recent memory, he disappeared from the space like a wisp of smoke.

Jack was the first to break their stunned silence. "Is it just me," he muttered, "or is Pitch acting really weird?"

"Wouldn't you?" Tooth asked him incredulously, having since imparted to Jack what Pitch was supposed to have seen.

"Of course. I just mean he's different. It almost like he's, I dunno, more human than what he used to be."

"Yes," Valentina agreed, though she spoke more to herself than anyone else as the idea solidified, "that's exactly what he's like."

It was another hour before she found him again. Valentina combed through the entire North Pole, leaving no room unchecked, no cupboard unopened and no shadow undisturbed. In doing so she discovered numerous secret passages connecting some rooms to others, and it was in one of these that Pitch had tucked himself away, hiding from the light in its dreary gloom.

When she saw him slumped listlessly on the floor up against the wall, she concluded with a sigh that pushing him to remember Emily Jane had been her worst of many bad ideas. He stared blankly through mien of weeping's aftermath, that dour expression left when no more tears can be mustered. Going to sit beside him, she slipped her arm around him and pulled him close. He had not the energy to protest, instead curling into her comforting embrace and burying his head in the crook of her neck.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, "I thought if you knew... I thought it had to be better than thinking she was gone forever," to which he answered with a single, jarring shudder. A silent sob. "But I was wrong." It went without saying that she was to never speak of his vulnerability, which would be the last nail in the coffin of his pride. As she held him, she ran her fingers gently through his hair, just as he'd once done for her, and his breathing slowed. He was calming down. Though he would have detested it had he known, she pitied him all the same. Sensitive, fallible, this was not the Pitch Black she'd first met, but it was the one she'd come to know, and she the more she pondered it, the more she was convinced Jack may have been on to something.

"I've never told you about who I was before this, have I?" she asked softly. It wasn't that she expected him to respond, nor that she thought he'd care at the minute. Rather, she supposed talking about anything else might provide some distraction for him.

With his head still resting against her shoulder, he shook it the tiniest bit.

"Well," she began "I was born in 1767 to a family of the French aristocracy and I was lucky enough to grow up in a relatively happy home. My parents let me do as I pleased, which was mostly to study. I had a passion for chemistry and the science that it was at the time, I thought it was fascinating. Though really any subject could have taken my fancy. I had a great tutor too, a bright young man two years my senior, and a scholar himself. There was even a time I thought we would marry," she said rather wistfully, "but I digress. I was very fortunate, most girls my age had been sent to sweatshops by the time they could hold a needle and thread.

"Unfortunately, my good luck didn't last long. I became a burden to my family and when I turned eighteen my parents had to find me a suitor - their fortune was being drained by societal upheaval and families like mine were being targeted by the masses."

"French Revolution?" he mumbled.

She hummed an affirmative "It was the only way for us to survive. Suddenly my studies were too improper for a young woman. You can imagine how I panicked when I realised marriage would mean throwing away everything I'd worked for to become some pompous prick's demure little housewife.

Pitch gave a silent chuckle this, not able to picture her being reduced to such a thing.

"I never saw my tutor again, but that was the least of my worries." As she continued, Valentina's voice had became wooden and betrayed something sinister had overshadowed her happy childhood. "The man I was supposed to call my husband was my worst nightmare come to life. I would gladly face a hundred of your nightmares than face him again. He treated me, and anyone who crossed him with such cruelty that there were some days that I thought would be my last, but he was the only one fit to pay the dowery. So I endured, because in the end it wasn't just about me. He had a younger sister who was being raised by her father, however he died unexpectedly and she had no one to care for her, so we were forced to take her in. I tried so hard to protect her, but he resented having another mouth to feed, and I don't even want to think what it would have been like with our own children. Because of him I became nervous, distrusting, and there were night terrors like you wouldn't believe - or perhaps you would. Still, I refused to let this girl grow up without knowing the same love my family had given me and we became each other's greatest companions.

"One night he came home from the local tavern, reeking of rum to the point that his hot breath made my head spin. He started to grab me, the way he usually did when he was drunk, but Amelie was there and I didn't want her to see. So I pushed him off me, and he didn't like that one bit. He yelled at me, invoking his right to me as his wife and became quite violent, and that's when I knew I had to leave. In that moment I decided I'd find my family and take Amelie with me. We should have had his drunkenness on our side which rendered him too clumsy to do much, but in the end it became a weapon. He… he threw a knife, not aiming, it was just supposed to be a warning. I saw it go straight for her. Somehow I managed to push her out of the way in time.

Pitch's attention was well and truly captivated by this point. His anger flared, absolutely livid at this disgraceful scum that had ruined her early life and been the cause of the fear she now struggled to control. He removed himself from her shoulder to better look at her. "And?" he urged.

"And it came for me instead," she finished evenly. "After that I must have died, because there's a period where I remember nothing. But when I was well and truly aware of myself, the Man in the Moon spoke to me. He told me my name, that he'd saved me for the unconditional love I'd shown to Amelie. I didn't realise at first that I'd become part of the spirit world, not until someone walked straight through me, and I don't think I need to tell you what that feels like."

"No," he agreed.

"Pitch," she said, intertwining her fingers in his, "I suppose what I'm trying to tell you is that I once knew a family too, and I was denied love by a wicked man and circumstances beyond my control. But I knew I still had to try and give that poor girl the faith that love always exists somewhere. And in a way that saved us both. So that's what I try and put into to the world as best I can, that's why I do the things that I do. It's the most enduring thing I know and since then I've seen all kinds of love, but family has always been the strongest. Regardless of whether they're related by blood or chosen, like I chose Amelie. You would have chosen Emily Jane every time if you could, and as long as you love her there's still a chance."

"You can't know that, the things she said-"

"Came from a very hateful place. I do know. I know what she said because I know you wish they weren't true. But if she's still out there, there's always a chance. Family bonds might strain, but they never truly break," she promised him.

For the first time that entire week, Valentina saw hope reemerge into into the Nightmare King's eyes.

"What would I do without you?" he asked, shaking his head.

"I often ask myself the same thing about you."

"Valentina, I'm sorry. Really I am. That night we met and I grabbed you... I know fear, but I can't imagine what that must have been like for you."

"All's fair in love and war," she reassured him, "at least now you know why I went with the punches." She turned him by the cheek with a gentle hand to face her and when he met her eyes, she saw something unmistakably human within. "I forgave you a long time ago, I just hope you can now do the same for me."

"If can I trust that you'll stay?"

She smiled at him. "For as long as you want me."


	15. Playing Cupid

**A/N:** I'm back! I'm alive, and I have a ripper update at last. In which, there is something of a reckoning for Val, Jack is the most annoyingly helpful, Pitch takes centre stage as the terrifying Nightmare King (for the greater good), and an ominous entity lurks behind the scenes. Thanks for being patient, I hope this is worth the wait.

 **REVIEWS:**

 **Crossover Junkie:** I really try with this fic. Yes I did! Only briefly though, I can't promise she'll make a reappearance. Did I mention I finally read the books? That was one of my favourite moments I have to say, that bit you mentioned. I think I do remember reading that, but I didn't realise how skewed the proportions were. Of course he has to be left handed, I think left handedness used to be taken as a sign of witchcraft, so it just makes him all the more strange. Lucky you!

 **Skyress1:** Thank you for letting me pick your brain this week, it's provided some much needed inspiration.

 **KijoKuroi** : Indeed that could be one explanation. I'm glad you enjoyed it!

 **Guest:** Struck a nerve did I? Excellent.

* * *

For all her good attributes, Valentina could be incredibly stubborn. As Pitch was currently observing from the safest distance allowed by the globe room's mezzanine, this woman knew how to not just hold fast to her assertions, but cling to them, immovable.

"Val, you have to!"

"I can't! Surely there has to be other ways?"

"Not if you want to see next Valentines Day."

The issue up for consideration was that the Guardian of Love was yet to make a trip out into the field as, well, a Guardian. Although, a 'heated discussion' would be a better way to describe how things were going. She was more than a little nervous about making an appearance, particularly after what happened over Christmas. But with Valentines Day only a month out, the days were slipping by very quickly and North had decided enough was enough.

"Is your duty to children. Going will help you figure out purpose in helping them," the aged bandit argued, throwing his beefy arms about as his agitation surged.

In contrast, Valentina stood defiantly still, her average stature doing little to deter from the determination of her stance. Her eyes were tracking North as he paced. "We've been over this, I know my centre. And if my duty to children is to protect them, I'll do a better job of it here, where I'm out of their way."

"That is not helping them or you!"

Pitch groaned softly from the pillar he was leaning against. His arms were folded and he drummed his fingers impatiently against his bicep. With lips set in a tight line, he made every effort to not be facing the globe as its burning lights glared down upon him. As much as it should have given him great pleasure to see the fat man so rilled up, their bickering was doing nothing but wasting time and grating on his nerves. Valentina should have been trying to put her plans into motion, but she was proving to be just as obstinate as the toymaker. Maybe even more so.

He was there at her request again today. This was hardly an unusual occurrence as she often asked for his help and he agreed. But admittedly her reasons for summoning him were becoming less dire as she exhausted the limits of what she could do from the confines of the base. He suspected what she really desired was company. Being in want of the same thing he was usually more than content to oblige, but today when North had announced that she needed to actually leave the North Pole and try to interact with the children on some level, that was when things took a turn for the irksome. Several arguments later and the situation had not improved.

There were so many other things he could have been doing. Although, it wasn't like there was anything stopping him from leaving either. He could probably come back and they'd still be squabbling. He could be out spreading a healthy dose of fear to some unsuspecting children, something he hadn't had the pleasure of doing in quite some time. Or better still, he could be trying to locate his daughter. A few days after he'd recovered from the tooth debacle he'd ventured out, but as of yet he'd had no such luck.

Emily Jane was just as elusive as he remembered, with his memory permitting. It wasn't perfect, no, but it was getting better. From what he could recall, she'd become a force to be reckoned with. To some spirits she went by the name 'Mother Nature', completely unpredictable and not always a benevolent soul as he'd found out the hard way. His efforts to find her had been just as fruitless as they had millennia ago in a miserable case of history repeating itself. Except this time, it seemed, Emily Jane did not want to be found.

"Who's winning," asked a voice next to him. He turned from the fray to see Jack had appeared clutching a bag full of cookies, his hand fishing around for one and then stuffing it in his mouth.

Curiously, Jack Frost and the Boogeyman had gradually become more tolerant of the other since their impromptu sharing of coffee. It was to the point where they now sat in a state of begrudging mutual respect, punctuated by Jack's tendency to push the envelope when he thought Pitch might let him get away with it. Being the troublemaker he was, this happened far too often.

Here, Pitch raised a cold eyebrow at the boy's lack of decorum as crumbs spilled out onto the floor. "It's hard to say," he grumbled, "Though, there was a whole minute where the oaf looked like he was bringing her around."

Jack's reply was one of amazement. "It's been an hour."

"Hm. Is that all?" He could have sworn it had been longer. Much longer.

Jack lingered at his side and continued to watch the argument - and munch on his biscuits. Right in his ear the boy crunched and chewed, crunched and chewed. Then he'd reach for another and start all over again.

"Do you mind?" Pitch snapped. "You're going to make yourself ill if you keep gorging yourself on that rubbish."

Jack shot him a smug grin stuffed with shortbread. "Carefoo, Pish, suh-wuh migh fink you actuawy care."

"I do care - about keeping vomit off my shoes," he sneered with an upturned lip. "Shouldn't you be out freezing the snot on people's noses, or something equally pointless?"

"Probably."

His nonchalant shrug had Pitch flare his nostrils. How very like a teenager. "What do you even do all day?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

Deciding he didn't owe an answer, he snorted derisively and turned his attention back to North and Valentina. She held a steely glare as he listed off all the different reasons why she should go, and although her stubbornness was going to do her more harm than good in the long run, Pitch had to quirk an eyebrow in admiration at the sheer strength of her will against the cossack's.

"Cookie?"

"No," he declined without shifting his gaze, "they're far too fattening."

At this, Jack made a sly grin and mused in mock thoughtfulness, "I wonder, who could Pitch Black be trying to impress?"

Pitch wheeled around sharply. "No one," he hissed.

"Sure you're not," he snickered.

"You had better learn to hold your tongue, Frost," the Nightmare King threatened lowly. His gaunt face was inches from Jack's, which would be enough to scare any grown man into soiling themselves. But the little shit maintained his impish smirk.

"You wouldn't be so mad if it wasn't true."

He was considering simply tearing the boy's tongue out instead, but the logic of his jibe compelled him to exercise control.

"And what of it?" he dismissed stiffly. "Taking pride in one's appearance is nothing to be sneered at." He plucked up some crumbs that had landed on the front of Jack's jumper and flicked them away. "Maybe you should try it sometime."

Feigning boredom of their conversation, Pitch resumed leaning against the pillar, and Jack noticed that aside from being exceptionally grumpy, mostly he just looked tired. But as his gaze naturally drifted back to Valentina, he seemed to settle into a more contented state.

"You really like her, don't you?" Jack probed, all joking aside.

"I ' _like_ ' her," he mused drily, "trust this age to be so flippant on such matters."

Jack looked at him expectantly.

"Well so what if I do?" he snapped.

The grin returned. "Have you asked her out?"

"Is everything always so brash with you?"

"Yup. Answer the question."

As Pitch's frustration mounted he looked fit to lash out, but suddenly his face fell, deflated. "It's not quite that simple," he confessed.

"Why not?"

He let out a defeated sigh. "Because! Aside from the fact that she could do much better than someone like me, things are… complicated."

That they were. As Pitch remembered more about Emily Jane, the fact that any and all information about her mother still eluded him pressed down guiltily upon his conscience. He could remember things that they'd done together but to him she was still a stranger, and he was made even more confused by the impossibility that she was supposed to be 'close'. He still didn't know what that meant, whether she was physically near or whether she would happen across him in the next decade by some means, but it was enough to fuel the constant battle in his head of just how he should _feel._ This woman had been his wife, for crying out loud. Reason said he should honour that fact, but how was he supposed to love a stranger? One that may or may not even exist at that. What saddened him most of all was that his so-called vision could very well be chalked up to a desperate hope on the part of his subconscious. And all the while there was Valentina, who was tangible and real. He'd found himself becoming distant and he knew she'd noticed, but what was he to do? To pursue her seemed unfair, even though all he really wanted to do was hold her, to kiss her again.

"She could, but I don't think she thinks that," Jack reassured him through nibbles of another biscuit, "All she ever does is talk about you when you're not around."

"I don- really?" he queried with a searching look.

"Yeah." He shot Pitch a smarmy smile. "It's actually kind of annoying."

"Well, in _that_ case, good."

"But also, if things are really so complicated, why do you stick around at all? Wouldn't it be easier to just drop everything and leave?"

He stared hard at the winter sprite, in part because he wished for this sudden interest in his affairs to be over with, and in part because for all his prying and ludicrous attempts at playing Cupid, the boy posed a valid question.

"Obviously, you like her," Jack finished for him. "Just admit it."

Pitch exhaled sharply. "I'm not admitting anything… But what exactly would you suggest I do if that were the case?"

"Take her out!"

He narrowed his eyes. "That seems a bit counterproductive."

Jack's own eyes bugged at his apparent cluelessness. "I mean on a _date."_

 _"_ Don't be absurd, I can't do that."

"Why not? C'mon, she's smart and pretty-"

"That's exactly why I can't," he stressed. "What if she says no?"

Jack's brow rose. "Are you kidding? Why would she say no? I mean sure, you look kinda creepy, and you walk really weird. Then there's the nose, plus I think you're greying around the edges there a bit… "

"I'm almost flattered," he drawled over the mockery.

"The bottom line is she has a thing for you. Beats me why, but she does. Just invite her to do something with you. Preferably, something fun."

"Something fun," Pitch repeated thoughtfully.

"Please don't make me explain it to you, it will hurt me."

"Shut up. I know what fun is."

With a guffaw, Jack hummed skeptically. "Yeah, that's debatable. Look, at least just get her out of here for a bit. I think she needs it, she's just too stubborn to realise."

Pitch couldn't argue there. It was all good and well planning something in theory, but an operation as crucial as Valentine's Day would need to be practiced, and she wasn't proving she was worthy of anything by locking herself up. Even he could see that.

With one last withering look at the boy for having gotten under his skin, he turned on his heel and marched over to where Valentina and North were continuing to have it out.

"If you both don't mind," he interrupted loudly over the din with a piercing glare, "My ears could do with a rest, thank you very much."

The mountain man began to object. "But, she has to -"

"I'm quite aware. I think she's heard you loud and clear, as have we all, so would you excuse us?" he negotiated smoothly.

"But…"

" _Now_."

The lour North was given did in fact startle him into a paleness on par with his white beard. Throwing his arms up one last time, he surrendered, cursing loudly in a slavic dialect no one could understand. Satisfied, Pitch smirked after him, and with the slam of an adjourning door, the cossack disappeared to stew.

Valentina could now safely breathe a sigh of relief. "Thank you, I thought that was never going to end."

"You and me both," he agreed wearily.

She grimaced. "Sorry, he just wouldn't let up."

He raised his brow slightly at her. "Neither would you. And not that I would ever let that blithering idiot hear this, but have you considered that he might be right?"

Valentina startled at how little sense the entire premise of that question made. "Since when do you agree with North?"

"Since I think it might be in your best interests to do these things you've been avoiding," he advised gently. When all was said and done, Pitch might have been spiteful but he was not unreasonable, and logic in the face of chaos was something his job description demanded. "Though trust me, it brings me no pleasure to share in the opinions of Nicholas St. North. Valentina, you can't hinge everything on the hopes that one perfect day is going to be what saves you. You have to prove your remorse, and that means leaving the safety of the North Pole."

Her dark lips formed a twisted pout as she looked desperately around. "I know, I know. But how can I? What if something goes wrong again?"

"It won't," he reassured her.

"How do you know?" she challenged, placing her hands firmly on her hips.

"Because I'm going with you."

Her haughty stance slackened. "You are?"

"Yes. No. I mean, rather, if you'd like. Wait no, that not what…" he trailed off in a mutter to himself. It had come out all wrong. Now his confidence was waning quickly and this was not helped in the least by Jack, who was making absurd encouraging gestures with a ridiculous grin plastered on his face.

Valentina couldn't figure out why he looked so unsure at first. His hands were fidgeting. Pitch did many things, but to fidget was not one of them.

Valentina, I-" he cleared his throat and gritted his teeth, pulling himself together. "I wonder if you'd go out with me?"

She blinked rapidly several times, completely stunned, and replied weakly, "what about all that stuff I need to do?" _Wow, Val, great prioritising_ , she scolded herself as soon as the words slipped out.

"That's what I was thinking of," he explained, "rather than it being some daunting task you have to tackle yourself, think of it as us going out to do something…"

Jack eagerly raised two thumbs up high above his head.

"…fun?"

Looking less like a deer in headlights, she shot him a quizzical smile. "I never pegged you for the fun type."

"Then allow me to surprise you?" he suggested with his own smile that vaguely resembled more of a grimace.

When her brow furrowed he knew he'd been right; This was a terrible idea, and now he'd made a complete and utter fool of himself. He was going to skin Jack alive for this when he got his hands on him, and by the Moon above he was going to enjoy it.

"What about the Night-Mares?" She asked eventually. "They're still out there and I don't want to lose control. I can't, not again."

Pitch hadn't even realised he'd been holding his breath, and almost sank to his knees in relief that she wasn't frowning because of him. "And you won't. Valentina, come what may, you know what to expect and I'll be with you the whole time. Besides," he added with a devilish chuckle and a gesture to himself, "have you forgotten what they'd have to contend with if they came anywhere near? If something happens I'll bring us right back."

For what was an agonising wait, Valentina gave this some consideration before deciding on her answer.

"Promise?"

 _Was that a yes? Is she actually saying yes!? Unbelievable,_ he thought _, the boy's a damn genius._

Over where he stood, Jack was punching the air repeatedly, silently cheering as Valentina remained oblivious.

"I promise," he said, offering his left arm and she took it with a shy smile that became an elated beam. Before they departed, Pitch chanced a glance at the Frost spirit, who gave a cheeky salute.

"Where are we going then?" she asked him.

"Well, I did have one idea."

* * *

When they reemerged from the shadows it was in the quiet shade of a cobblestone laneway, with provincial apartments rising up on either side. Ivy crawled along the walls, and balconies were adorned with wrought iron barricades and assortments of potted plants. Where the lane opened up to a main street, the burbling of people pleasantly going about their business drifted over to them, as did the scent of freshly baked bread that was all too familiar to Valentina. She grinned when she realised where he'd taken them.

"Paris?" she laughed.

Pitch nodded. "You spoke so fondly of your family, I thought it might help some. You never mentioned where you lived, but I thought the capital of France was at least a safe bet. That, and the Tooth Fairy may have let slip that she found you here."

"It was more a case of me finding her," Valentina insisted, "but yes, we did often travel here." She drifted along down the road, peering into little shop windows as a contented smile brightened her heart-shaped face. "I guess I was so inspired by the city that I never ended up leaving."

"Welcome home, then."

She looked back to him and beamed. It was the first time he'd seen her happy like this and she looked positively radiant. Even the fractures that lingered on her skin seemed to fade in the sunlight that filtered down and caught her auburn curls. She was a vision in every shade of red and pink, and yes, he thought, she was indeed beautiful.

Turning to face him properly, Valentina saw that from where he stood a little way down the lane, Pitch was smiling at her. No, it was not a sneer, nor a simper, or even a smirk. It was a real smile that softened his pointed features into the semblance of something kind and warm. With it, he appeared slightly less like a dark smudge on a quaint picture. It suited him wonderfully.

Stepping lightly, she went to take both his hands in hers. "Come on," she told him as she led him away, "there's so much here that I want to show you."

Pitch decided not to mention the fact that he already knew Paris like the back of his hand. Having all the time in the world, he'd visited often, but with Valentina as his guide it was like seeing the city for the first time again. She showed him all the places she favoured: a small patisserie that had been in business since her visits as a child, the parks she frequented when she wanted to think, and the rooftop to which she retreated that gave her the best view of the skyline.

Valentina herself was quite giddy. Not only did the world look particularly bright behind rose coloured glasses, but this being the first time in several weeks since she'd been out and about, she was constantly distracted. She pointed out things at random, or was particularly taken by the way some people would fawn over their significant others, or how a parent would look with nothing but adoration at their child. At one point she stopped to watch a dance class in progress. It was some sort of waltz, ridiculously romantic, and she was hypnotised by way these people moved and spun together in perfect unison.

"Isn't it wonderful," she sighed, "they look like they're having so much fun."

"Even if they are complete amateurs," Pitch agreed with a smirk and she gave a twinkling laugh. Her interest in the dancers remained inconsequential until Jack's advice echoed back to him: _Invite her to something with you… something fun._ But by the time the thought actually occurred to him, she had already moved on.

As he had suspected would happen, when Valentina became more comfortable in her surroundings her confidence grew in leaps and bounds. What began as a simple tour soon became a mission to do what the Guardian of Love did best, and it started with a grudging couple. She was so surprised by their coldness towards each other as they sat wordlessly on a park bench, that she stopped abruptly causing Pitch to nearly walk right into her.

"Not on my watch," she muttered to herself.

With her eyes fixed on the two men, whose body language indicated to her that they must have had a quarrel recently, she conjured a vial of L'amour. Pitch tensed when he thought she was about to summon her bow and arrow, but instead of this she walked up and poured a little of the pink liquid over them. Rather than make a dripping mess, the position settled in a pastel vapour around their heads. He observed with a cocked eyebrow the effect it had. Gradually, their serious scowls softened until one actually managed a smile at the other, and with contrite glances they made their apologies. With her job done, Valentina returned to join him.

"That's not what I was expecting." he admitted.

She looked over her shoulder at the couple who were now gazing affectionately at each other, and replied, "they knew what they wanted, but sometimes the head needs to be persuaded by the heart."

She had already begun walking away, another matter piquing her interest, but before he could follow Pitch's attention was caught by something that troubled him. He couldn't understand why he hadn't noticed before. Black granules dusted the line of park benches. Picking some up with his finger, his suspicions were confirmed; nightmare sand.

"Pitch, are you coming?" Valentina called back to him.

Brushing it off, he quickly did away with it before she could notice. It would only worry her.

"Right behind you," he replied.

As the day progressed, Valentina was alarmed to find so many people, be they couples, family or friends, in ill humour with one and other. She could sniff out the animosity a mile away and at times it was so strong it made her head spin. The reason being that, at the site of each problem case, Pitch found more evidence that his Night-Mares had been in the area. She still had not seen or made the connection, so he decided to keep it to himself. He would tell her later.

Blissfully unaware that trouble might be afoot, Valentina was reminded of her duty to these people and that despite what she had so desperately hoped for, she was no good to anyone if she stayed in hiding of the world. Even more than that, she was reminded that what she did made her happy.

They wandered through Paris, stealing little brushes and playful nudges and Pitch had to wonder where this version of himself had come from. He scarcely felt the need to have the people and children that passed unwittingly by cowering in terror. In fact the only times he felt compelled to do anything was when a child showed no real concern that they were playing far too close to a busy road, or when someone thought it might be a grand idea to climb a high ladder without a spotter. It was occasions such as these where he did step into his role as the inspirer of fear.

Only when they came across a playground did their outing suddenly lose its appeal. In the Luxembourg Gardens, a group of children were playing in the dying afternoon light, and both Valentina and Pitch sobered when they happened across them. Though their motives differed, what really hit home to them was the fact that should they try to walk among them, it was highly unlikely these children would even realise they were there.

"It's not easy, is it?" Pitch said evenly.

"It's even harder up close," Valentina agreed, leaning against the aluminium fencing. They'd stopped beneath the shade of a large oak, captivated by these beings that hung their very existence in the balance. Here they played, so innocent and guileless, completely unaware of the power they held.

"I don't understand why I was chosen, Pitch," she sighed, "These kids don't need what I can do. They need the other Guardians - and even you - far more than they need someone like me."

Pitch wanted to assure her in some way that it wasn't true, however his sights were trained on something else. As the light faded and more children dissipated, he noticed two coat clad boys were wandering deeper into the park rather than heading for an exit. His brow furrowed and Valentina noticed.

"What's the matter?" she asked, trying to follow his gaze.

"Those two, over there," he pointed, "they aren't leaving. They're going further in even though it's getting dark."

"That's not good, where are their parents?" she wondered, glancing around.

"Who knows. They're not any rush to leave though."

"So what do we do?"

Pitch gave a small smirk. "We give them a reason to run."

Without another word he dropped into a shadow and Valentina saw him reappear some distance away, stalking the two children as they meandered down the darkening path. She followed, and flew over to the trees nearest to her that lined the walkway, though it wasn't without trepidation - What if she didn't like what she was about to see?

Pitch trailed after the two boys, doing nothing but trying to gage their fears at first. They were certainly buried somewhere. Everyone, especially a child, was afraid of something.

 _Spiders... skinned knees... father's temper... math… the school bully…_

These fears made themselves known to him quietly, not quite at the forefront of their consciousness. They were all fairly sensible things to be afraid of, but to their foolishness and Pitch's frustration, they seemed to have no reservations about staying out after dark without a guardian present. That would have to be fixed. He sifted through the things that did scare them, and at last found something of use to him:

 _Monsters._

The children were at an age where fearlessness of the real world was a result of inexperience, however their youth was on his side. Despite their daring, their imaginations were still wild enough for them to tremble at the thought of beasts lurking in their closets. Perfect, Pitch thought, it was almost too easy.

Valentina stood some distance away and watched how the boys conversed loudly, unaware they'd been spotted. Though they spoke entirely in French, she understood every word (it having been her first language), and gradually their eagerness for chatter subsided. Something was amiss. They'd sensed it. The sun had disappeared and nightfall was approaching rapidly. Through the trees the shadows shifted, always in their peripheral vision, just enough to hint that there was something out there.

"Did you see that?" one of them asked.

"I don't think so," the other tried to reply steadily, but his fidgeting betrayed unease.

For Pitch, piquing their nerves was simply delightful and spurred him on. The theatrics became more elaborate. His optical illusions were accompanied by rustlings in the trees, the snapping of twigs and even the flickering of a solitary lamp that stood several feet away from them. The boys gave terrified gasps when it seemed the Thing was closing in on them.

"What do you think it is?" the taller of the two whimpered.

"Maybe a ghost?"

Their panic rolled over to him in glorious waves, and he emitted an ominous chuckle that could now be heard by both plainly.

"Who's there!?" The shorter one yelped.

Pitch didn't answer straight away. On the surface it would seem he was letting them stew in their own terror for a few moments longer, but in actual fact to receive a response - to have them hear him - had thrown him off guard.

"Someone you would be wise to be wary of," he eventually informed them in their native tongue.

"Who are you?" the tall one gasped.

His mirth at having them well and truly frightened could be heard in chilling reply. "Who am I? Oh, I am many things: the creature that waits in your pitch-dark closet, the thing that goes bump in the night. But _you_ might know me best as the monster that hides under your beds. I'm certainly not someone you'd want to meet on a dark path at nightfall."

They paled as they realised the exact predicament they'd found themselves in.

"Tell me, have you ever heard of the Boogeyman?"

"Ma- Maman said the Boogeyman doesn't exist," the short one stuttered.

"Maybe that's what your dear Maman thinks. But you know better, don't you?" Pitch stepped partially into view. His eyes glinted out of the darkness, reflecting eerily in the low light. But his smile was the most frightening of all; two rows of pointed teeth revealed in a predatory grin.

"Are - are you the Boogeyman?" he asked faintly with knees almost knocking together.

"I'll give you one guess."

"Are you going to… _eat us_?"

From where she was watching, Valentina spluttered and shook with mildly suppressed laughter at the very idea. Though even she was made slightly uneasy by the Nightmare King's act, she had since realised no harm was going to befall the poor boys at his hands. He just wanted them out of the park and safe.

He shot her an amused glance before continuing with a lazy drawl. "Doubtful, I don't particularly care for such a diet. Children have to be gobbled very quickly. It's frightful for the digestion. However, if a child has been particularly naughty, perhaps I might make an exception."

The boys gulped audibly and even Valentina's snickering quietened.

"Which brings me to ask: What are you doing in the park all alone? Children such as yourselves shouldn't be wandering around this time of night."

"We just wanted to play a little longer," said the tall boy remorsefully.

"I can guarantee you won't want to play with anything that comes out after dark," he warned them with a well timed leer. "Especially not me."

The boys were shaking in their boots.

"But! I'm feeling generous. So I'll give you three seconds to get out of my sight and run along home. Unless, of course, you'd both like to join me for dinner?"

They didn't need telling twice. The boys tore down the path and out of sight before Pitch could begin counting.

When he was certain they'd gone, he reemerged into the dim lamp light, casting his threatening demeanour aside like a well rehearsed actor. He strode to Valentina with his head held high, victorious, and chuckled at how she'd paled slightly.

"Have I frightened you, my dear?"

"A little," she tittered, having been swept up by his scheme, "you can be down right terrifying when you want to."

"A better review if ever I'd heard one."

"So it should be; Pitch, they saw you!"

"They did." The realisation rendered him thunderstruck. "Valentina, not only did they see me, they were _scared_ of me. They believed in me!"

"Yes!" She laughed as his typically controlled composure gave way to excitement. "Yes they did."

Although deep down it made her all the more melancholy to think that she still remained invisible and intangible to children everywhere, it did bring Valentina some comfort to see Pitch so exuberant when he'd been nothing but sombre for the past few weeks. He paced back and forth, barely able to contain himself, repeating to himself the one thing that mattered most of all in that moment: They believed in him. So she decided to keep her troubles to herself.

"Best of all, you did it for the right reasons," she commended him.

He looked at her like the thought hadn't occurred to him. "Well, of course. I had to do something. Like I said, no child should be wandering around by themselves at night. They have many things to be afraid of, and for good reason."

"It just proves what I've been saying all along. There is something there," she said smugly poking him lightly in the chest.

His hand lingered over the spot and he shot her a mystified glance. "What's that?"

"Something good."

"You still don't think I'm a monster. Even after you've seen what do?" he asked with a smirk.

"After that? I know so," she assured him, although suddenly she faltered with a frown. "As long as you've never actually… you know… eaten a child. Have you?"

At her sudden doubts he laughed. "Darling, that's merely a rumour I never bothered to correct. If anything it's a bluff that's served me well. All that pretence without having to do the dirty work, I figured why not just quit while I'm ahead?"

"I thought not," she chuckled with a coquettish smile, "you look far too trim."

Pitch raised an eyebrow at her. _Is she? Did she just-_

"Let's go back," she suggested, taking his arm, "I think our work here is done."

In their elated spirits, neither Valentina or Pitch had noticed the wind pick up, or the clouds that loomed heavy and low in the sky. Nor did they think to suspect something with more sinister intent than the Boogeyman himself could be watching them from beyond the light's reach.

* * *

"Jack suggested it?" Valentina asked incredulously when they were back in her room of the North Pole. She sat on the couch facing Pitch, with her legs comfortably tucked under.

He nodded. "The boy all but pushed me over to you." He was leaning side-on with his arm propped up on the back of the couch, his cheek resting against his fist.

"That little sneak!" she exclaimed. "He's trying to do my job for me."

"Watch your back, I think he enjoyed himself far too much," he cautioned, "you might have some competition."

"I say we get him back," she proposed deviously.

"A prank?" He considered with a wicked grin. "I like it."

She laughed, "I was thinking more along the lines of how he and Tooth are a little… infatuated. But I'm glad you do actually know how to have fun."

His face fell slightly and his brow furrowed. "I'm sorry. Today wasn't exactly what I promised, was it?"

"What? No of course it was!" she said quickly, realising he'd made completely the wrong inference. "That's not what I meant. Today was the most fun I've had in a long time."

"Interesting." He bit his lip with a slight chuckle. "I don't think anyone's ever had fun because of me." In fact the very idea that someone could be anything other than fearful in his presence fascinated him to say the least. He found himself inching closer to her. His knee brushed hers.

"Well I did," she said, studying his face. She took in the lines, the shadows, the jawline that looked as though it could cut glass, and eyes that held all the light of an eclipse. She wanted to commit them to memory. "I can't thank you enough. If anything, I'm just disappointed it's all over."

He hummed thoughtfully as an idea came to him. "There's no reason why it should be."

She gave him a quizzical smile. "What do you mean?"

He stood with his usual effortless elegance, which perked her interest even if it did break the sense of magnetism between them.

"There was something I wanted to ask you earlier," he said, "unfortunately I missed the opportunity then, but now seems as good a time as any."

She blinked owlishly at him from her perch on the couch. Then, unexpectedly, he bowed and offered his hand to her.

"I was wondering if you would do me the honour of a dance?"

A laugh escaped her before she could cover her mouth. "Is this about the waltzing? Oh no. No, no. I just said it looked fun. Pitch, I really can't dance. At all."

"That's alright," he dismissed as a matter of little consequence, "I'll teach you."

"You know how to dance?"

The corners of his lips quirked at her surprise. "Rather well I'd like to think. When you've been around as long as I have you tend to pick up a few things. This I learned a very long time ago."

His hand was still reached out to her, and with it, the warmth she'd seen in him earlier that day. There was something about that look that made her feel like she was standing on the edge of a precipice, something that made her knees go weak and stomach somersault.

Smiling in spite of herself, she took it.

"Just know, I will step on your toes," she warned him.

"By all means, do your worst," he chuckled as he led her to the clear space between the couch and desk. With a flick, he turned on the music box and it struck up their own private orchestra.

Standing face to face, Pitch instructed her, "take my hand," which she did. Gingerly, it slipped into his own, the warmth of it just inviting as he remembered.

"What about this one?" she asked, holding up her left.

"On my arm."

So she did, and she found his bicep to be surprisingly firm underneath. He then rested his right hand on the curve of her waist and pulled her close to him.

"Back straight," he hinted, and she stood a little taller. Her chest was inches from his, the electricity between them invigorating. Her heart was racing at his touch and she could have sworn she heard his beating as well.

"Now, when I step forward, you take a step back. I will lead, all you need to do is follow."

"Okay"

"And On- oof!"

Of course, Valentina had not only crushed his foot right off the bat, but she stepped forward as he did and clanged into him. There was nothing for her to do but hang her head in shame and laugh as he rubbed one of his ribs.

"I'm so sorry!"

"Don't apologise," he said trying not to wince, "you did try to warn me. Though when I said 'do your worst' I didn't think you'd actually take me seriously. Shall we try again?"

"I'm game if you are."

They took up the position again, and this time Valentina actually managed to move in the right direction. Back and forth they stepped simply and when she had it down, he spun her out. Coming back in, he caught her in his arms, and she relaxed into the embrace.

"There," Pitch said, spinning her once again to face him, "fairly simple, once you get the hang of it."

Then the music changed. It was a tune in three-four time, but unlike that they had just listened to, this was something completely foreign. Yet it was strangely familiar and none the less beautiful. A sombre look crossed Pitch's face and his breath caught. But it only lasted mere seconds as Valentina took his hand. Without even realising it, his hand found her waist again and his gaze locked into hers.

Without words, and no instructions needed, Valentina and Pitch stepped into a routine that was not just a dance, it was a conversation, as old as time itself. She found her feet effortlessly, and as they wheeled and spun she felt completely weightless. The rest of the world seemed to fall away. He guided her round the room, stepping out, meeting back in, under, over, in and out. Together. And not once did either of them misstep. As the orchestra swelled, he lifted her, only bringing her back down to have their faces inches from each other.

"How did you know that?" he breathed, his heart pounding.

"I didn't know it," she whispered.

It was impossible, completely and utterly. But as he lost himself in the familiarity of those green eyes it was unmistakable.

Her hands slid to nape of his neck, and his to the small of her back. Pulses racing, chests heaving, Pitch pressed her to him. Suddenly he wanted nothing more than to kiss her, and that's exactly what he intended to do. That desire called to her and all she feared in that moment was that it should not occur.

He lowered his lips to hers.

They'd kissed for only a fraction of a second before Valentina's window shattered, flooring them. On the ground they huddled together, trying shield themselves from the sleet and snow that rushed unforgivingly into the room. As the bitterly cold gale threatened to freeze them, they thought they heard an enraged cry sound over the howling wind.


	16. The tempest

**A/N:** If long chapters aren't your thing, I apologise. Cause this thing is long. I really need to give myself a word limit. Just think of it as a parting gift while I knuckle down over the next few weeks!

 **Reviews:** Please keep dropping them in, I love hearing from my readers. Holler if you're still out there!

 **Crossover Junkie:** Well that's a relief. If everything is making sense, or is at least believable then I can run this off a happy woman. Yes! I love playing Jack and Pitch off each other. I think Jack keeps making an appearance just because I like their dynamic so much. 'I Fought the Law'... yes that just about sums both of them up, especially North.

 **Skyress1:** Big shout out to you, lovely!

* * *

The roar of this destructive wind was deafening. It intruded on what had become a sanctuary, bringing with it hale, sleet and snow that reduced the homely retreat to chaos. Pitch instinctively tried to shield Valentina. He buried his face in her hair, clutching her to him when an icy blast fired shards of glass from the broken window their way.

Around them, everything came crashing down. First the music box clanged apart in a smattering of gears and screws, then bottles of L'amour were dropped one by one to the floor, and Pitch was helpless to stop it. His nightmare sand was useless against the forces of nature. It could only provide him with a means of not letting the furniture of all things crush them to death. The bookcase that loomed above where they were sprawled teetered and almost toppled on to them. It would have done so too, had he not conjured a makeshift support beam. The books, however… he was willing to wager whoever was of the opinion that sticks and stones were all that could break bones had obviously never taken an encyclopedia to the head.

The blows just kept coming - quite literally. The wind was more powerful than either of them would have thought possible and it seemed to ebb slightly, only return with a vengeance. They braced themselves for yet another onslaught as the wind drew breath, taking a moment to build upon itself.

Seizing the opportunity this lull presented, Valentina broke her arm free and threw it out blindly, commanding Cupid to protect them. The vaporous soul fragment spread and solidified, creating an impenetrable barrier that kept the storm at bay. It was a bubble of tranquility in the tempest, though the wind could faintly be heard trying to batter it down. Valentina flexed her fingers and the shield expanded, driving the gale back out through the open window and sealing it up. Drawing her arm back in to her chest to conserve heat while she trembled from the cold, she maintained the magic by will of her concentration alone.

In response to the silence a sense of resignation settled over Pitch, and with it exhaustion. In all his years he'd never been one to back down from a fight, not by choice at least. But this attack had been something personal with a motive that ran deeper than mere spite, and in light of everything he now knew he could take an educated guess as to who the perpetrator might be. The thought of it hurt him. More than his aching body, and more than his stinging eyes. This pain was a sickness that writhed in his stomach and gripped his cold heart. It tired him, wore him thin like paper. He tried to convince himself on a whim that if they stayed still enough on the ground, if he closed his eyes tight enough, he could cling to Valentina and everything else would just go away.

 _"_ _Pitch?"_

Unfortunately such whims held no place in reality. He opened his eyes to meet Valentina's concerned expression as she gently shook his shoulder. She'd recovered from the shock more quickly than he had, but it didn't stop him from brushing the disheveled hair from her face to ensure there were no signs of injury.

"Are you alright?" he asked, reluctantly releasing her.

She gave a small nod and replied, "I'm okay," though she winced when she tried to sit up. "Just cold. What about you?"

"Slight headache," he admitted as he also tried to prop himself up, "I'll be fine though." He'd been cradling his forehead the entire time, taking little notice of the damp beneath his fingers. He was yet to register the extent of his injuries, having acquired a deep cut dangerously close to his temple. It was noticed by Valentina, who was alarmed to see him bleeding.

"No, you're not. You're hurt," she gasped, moving his hand and pushing the wayward strands of hair that had fallen in his face back to their raven crest.

Catching a glimpse of the dark fluid smeared on his fingers, he recoiled in a panic before she could take a closer look. "No!" He warded her off and covered the gash. When she narrowed her eyes at him he tried to regain his composure. "No," he repeated, more calmly this time, "don't. It's nothing."

She fixed him a stern look and squared her shoulders. "That is not nothing. Let me see."

"Valentina, I swear it is, I'll deal with it later."

"Pitch."

"Just leave it alone!" He snarled when she reached out again. The resulting aggression was enough for Valentina to snatch her hand away, wide eyed and afraid he might just bite it clean off. He realised how he must have looked to her and immediately regretted lashing out, but he couldn't let her see this.

Her shoulders sank in regret of her own as she concluded she'd pushed too far. Again. "Okay," she said, demurely, "I will." Having being distracted, Cupid wavered and she flicked a hand out to reinforce the barrier.

Though there was trepidation between them they did help each other to their feet, with Pitch making sure his hand stayed to his forehead. They glanced around at the decimated room and took stock of what remained. A few bottles were scattered here and there, but for the most part everything Valentina had been compiling for the past few weeks was destroyed.

"It's all gone," she whispered, collecting pieces of shredded notes. Picking her way over to the desk, she saw the once organised clutter was now in turmoil. She sifted through the mess to find anything worth recovering (there was none), and had to take care not to cut herself on the assorted broken glassware. The drapes that had hung by the window were strewn over her chair, and she gathered them to a disorganised fold in her arms to better see what might be hidden underneath.

With a splintering crash the door was forced open. Valentina yelped and jumped behind Pitch who responded instantly by firing off a barrage of nightmare sand at the intruder. His attack was deflected by a sabre carved from ice.

"Stop! Stop," came the gravelly command through the black cloud.

"Pitch, it's North," Valentina realised as the disgruntled toymaker was revealed in the doorway. Two or three yetis crowded behind him, acting as back up.

Though North had made himself known to be friend rather than foe, Valentina still clutched the bundle to her. For some irrational reason she didn't want to let it go.

"Was that necessary?" the cossack demanded.

"Was that?" Pitch retaliated with an aggravated gesture to the chipped door. "Had you actually tried the handle you would have realised it wasn't locked, and I wouldn't be wasting my energy."

"There is still no need to maim or seriously injure," he retorted.

Pitch gave a mirthless chuckle. "Well, barging in here minutes after we're attacked means you obviously feel like testing my reflexes and have a death wish I'd only be too happy to assist with."

With a quick glance around the room, North made a proper assessment of the destruction. "Katastrofa," he murmured, then turning to Pitch he said coolly, "I did not know it was attack. I heard explosion, I thought Jack or Val was in trouble so I came. I did not think you were still here." His roving gaze settled on the Guardian of Love. "Val, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she answered meekly, "but I won't be able to keep the shield up much longer." Behind her, Cupid flickered again.

He responded with an empathetic grunt. "And what is wrong with you?" North asked, eyeing the Boogeyman who still had a hand over his wound. It was obvious he was indifferent, and Pitch wasn't about to give reason for that to change.

"Nothing you need concern yourself with," he growled.

Content to leave their cold exchange at that, he went over to the window, crunching debris underfoot. He peered out, seeing nothing but the snowy, mountainous vista. "Val whatever was here is gone, you can take shield down."

More than a little relieved and perhaps a bit too recklessly, she allowed Cupid to vanish and leant against the desk while her strength returned. The gust that entered the room was still icy, but was by no means as strong as before. They were safe for now.

"What happened here?" North asked as he prodded the overturned furniture with the tip of his sword.

"There was a storm," replied Valentina wearily, "it was so strong it came through the window and took everything down with it."

"How is that possible?"

"Because it wasn't just a storm," came Pitch's lowly grunt. "There was someone controlling it."

Both North and Valentina looked sharply to him. "Why would someone try to attack Val?"

"It wasn't her they were after. It was me. Apparently, not only is my daughter alive and well, but so are her grievances," he hissed through the infernal throbbing of his head.

"Was anyone else hurt?" Valentina inquired of North. "What about Jack, was he down here?"

"No, he…" North realised he hadn't seen hide or hair of the winter sprite for several hours. "I don't know where he is."

He glanced at Valentina. It was hardly unusual for Jack to do as he pleased. He often came and went by Valentina's room, giving her a friendly holler (and a snide teasing to him if he happened to be there) on his way out or in. But for Jack to be out and about when Mother Nature was on a rampage did not bode well - he'd only just started to get used to the little git too.

"You said you saw him before we left," she reminded him.

"I did. But I didn't see him when we got back, did you?"

"No."

"Where have you been?" North interrupted, his suspicions mounting.

"Just to Paris, and back," Valentina told him, "Pitch convinced me to try doing what you said.

Eyes widened beneath bushy eyebrows. "You helped her?" He openly gaped at the fear spirit, who scowled faintly back.

"Yes," he confirmed snidely, "shocking, I know."

In a benchmark occasion, North's appraisal (which had only ever been stony, guarded and even loathsome in their long living rivalry) became something undeniably grateful - much to Pitch's chagrin. He stood stock-still, wondering at the Boogeyman who had done something to favour them. "You told her to take my advice?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves, shall we?" He snapped, "I did it because I've been thinking the same thing and I _wanted_ to help her, it had nothing to do with you or your advice." But nothing he could have said beyond this point would lessen that irritatingly jolly twinkle in the man's eye.

"Pitch, I never thought I would say this, but thank you," North said earnestly.

"Don't get used to it," he jibed.

Taking no notice of Pitch's displeasure at his amicability, North strode back over the upturned furniture to the door. "Get yourselves cleaned up, the others will be arriving soon. I am going to signal for them now."

"Oh, for the love of-" Pitch's lamentation broke off in an unintelligible groan. "There's no need! She's my daughter, I will handle it."

"We don't know who it is for sure, and if they are attacking North Pole, they attack all of us. Bathroom is down hall," he called as he left.

With an exasperated sigh, Pitch clenched and unclenched the hand that wasn't glued to his head. Just why the imbecilic team of Guardians had to be assembled when it barely concerned them was beyond him. Hadn't he endured enough already?

"Do you really think Emily Jane would do something like this?"

He turned to see Valentina slumped against the desk, surrounded by the mess of her work that he couldn't help but feel he'd had a hand in destroying. "It's possible," he evaluated in all seriousness. "Are… are you okay?" He felt like a complete ass, just standing there pathetically while she recovered, but he'd barred himself from getting any closer.

"I should be," she said, righting herself. She tried to stand tall, even physically keeping her chin up as she took a deep breath. But there was no mistaking that the entire fiasco had left her dispirited, made even worse by the way he was suddenly giving her the cold shoulder. "I don't think I can say the same for everything else."

She trudged past him and his lips set in a line as he silently cursed himself.

"Valentina?" he called before she reached the door.

She turned back around and her brow rose hopefully. "Yes?"

"The drapes."

"What?"

He gestured to the large bundle she held securely to her chest. "What are you doing with that?"

She looked down at it and seemed to snap out of a trance. Genuinely surprised to find herself still clutching it, she pulled the wad away and let it unravel to the floor. "I'm not sure," she admitted, and with a confused shake of her head, she turned to keep walking. "You better sort that cut out, I think the others are going to be here soon," she suggested coldly, before leaving him alone to determine if he'd sustained a concussion.

He couldn't get that image of her out of his head though. It stirred something in his subconscious, just out of reach. With the way she'd been holding it, the bundle it almost looked like… No. He shook his head and kicked aside a cushion as he stalked out of the room.

No, he was definitely concussed.

* * *

Valentina was making her way up to the globe room when Jack tumbled in through the sky light high above. Picking up her pace, she reached the landing just as he touched down.

"Jack!" she called, and he whirled around in a flurry of snowflakes to face her.

The first thing she noticed was that the frost spirit looked even more inspired by his namesake than usual. His white hair and eyelashes were encrusted with an abundance of tiny ice crystals, like he'd just been caught in a blizzard. There was snow collected in the hood of his jumper and the hems of his trousers were soaked through.

Before she could ask what on earth he'd been up to, he beat her with his own inquiry.

"Val? What happened to you?"

He was pointing to the frazzled disarray of her once neatly curled hair, no longer elegantly styled to the side, but pulled and tangled in all directions. Looking at her closely, he found minor grazes on all her limbs and even bruising that was beginning to show up.

"Was that Pitch? Damn it, I told him to do something fun, not something that would nearly kill you."

"This wasn't Pitch's fault," she sighed, brushing off her skirt and smoothing down the bodice, "not technically. Someone tried to attack him and I just got in the way."

His jaw slacked open. "While you were out? You're kidding, who was it?"

"No, it was here," she corrected him. "My room is completely wrecked, as is everything else I've been working on. We didn't see who it was, it was just a storm that came right through the window and took everything with it."

Jack stared at her with what she perceived as a vague sense of unease. "A storm? What, you mean like someone was controlling it?"

"Possibly. Pitch thinks there's a chance it might have been Emily Jane's doing, but we don't know for sure. I was worried you'd gotten caught up in it as well. But it would appear I was wrong," she observed, frowning slightly at his weathered appearance.

Ignoring her suspicious glance, he continued his bombardment of questions. "Do you mean as in his daughter, Emily Jane?"

"The one and only."

Jack looked askance for a split second. He twisted his staff between thumb and forefinger, eyes lowered as he pondered something that seemed to trouble him. "She would have to be really powerful to do something like that," he inferred.

"She is," Valentina agreed grimly, "I would say the amount of damage caused wouldn't be a stretch if you were someone like Mother Nature."

Jack had a naturally pale complexion, to the point where it was almost spectral, but at Valentina's utterance of that name it dulled and became ashen. He gasped as panic appeared to grip him.

"Are you hurt?" he asked urgently. "What about Pitch?"

Giving him a strange look, she informed him, "I'm sore, but nothing too bad. Pitch on the other hand…" She scowled. "The only thing he's worried about wounding is his pride, apparently,"

Surprised by her bitterness, and suddenly eager to change the subject, he asked carefully, "I take it the date didn't go so well?"

Her expression softened and in recollection she hugged her arms to herself. "No, it was wonderful. _He_ was wonderful - and considerate, and a gentleman," she gushed.

"So what happened?"

"After the attack, it was suddenly like I had the plague and he wouldn't let me near him." Her expression then reverted itself back to the hardened scowl. "I don't know exactly how hurt he is, but if he doesn't want my help, then fine. He can deal with it himself," she huffed. "Enough about me and Pitch though. Where have you been? You look like something the wind blew in."

"Nowhere," he replied quickly. "Just out stirring up a blizzard in Norway."

She was sharply aware of how Jack shifted uncomfortably, his gaze darting anywhere her's wasn't. "It's a bit late in the season for a blizzard there, isn't it?" She interrogated.

"Oh, you know," he laughed a little too forcefully, "I thought one more to last them a couple of weeks." This earned him a dubiously raised brow.

"Right," she nodded, unsure what to make of his strange behaviour, but none the less concerned for him. "Jack, is there anything you want to tell me?"

He seemed to shrink back under her scrutiny, but this time he met her eyes when he answered.

"Nope, nothing."

Jack was lying, she could tell. He was usually so open and forthcoming, and for him to be acting guarded immediately roused her suspicions. But she also knew there was no point in trying to push things further. He wouldn't divulge anything he didn't want to.

"Okay," she appeased carefully, "but if there is you can tell me. If you want to, that is. You know that, right?"

He appeared to be in two minds, and she wondered for a second whether or not he would take up the offer.

"I know." He replied after consideration. Apparently he was opting for the latter, and aside from doing nothing to settle her unease, she couldn't help but feel a little disappointed.

He was about to take off and find North, but not before he offered her some advice of his own. "Val, if Pitch is acting weird, it's probably not because of anything you did."

"Really?" She shot him a dubious smirk. "He seems to think so. Why else would he be acting like such jerk after being so… dare I say it, lovely?"

"Cause it's Pitch and kinda his job to be a jerk," he reminded her with a wry grin. "Also, he thinks his kid attacked him."

She could have kicked herself. Of course that would have to have something something to do with it. And here she was being self-centred while it was probably tearing him up inside. All because she was bitter over having come crashing down from the high of being enraptured by him

"Look whatever's going on, you don't have to worry about whether or not he likes you," Jack reassured her, seeming to read her thoughts.

"I'm not-"

"Even if you did do something, it'll figure out. He's got it bad for you, Val. Promise. I had to insult him even more than usual just to get his attention this morning; He couldn't keep his eyes off you." he snickered.

She was rendered speechless. Slowly, a blush began to brighten her cheeks, and she found herself smiling, much to her dismay. _I'm supposed to be angry, not… swooning,_ she scolded herself. Jack shot her a mischievous grin and she almost laughed at how the tables had turned for her.

"You're going to put me out of a job, Jack Frost," she quipped, shaking her head at him.

"Nah, not really. I just like seeing Pitch happy," he chortled. "It's like watching a dog walk on its hind legs."

She guffawed as she made to go and find the aforementioned Boogeyman in the hopes of making amends, but was stopped.

'Val, just be careful. Alright?"

Her laughter subdued at his vague warning. "Of course," she assured him, despite her bafflement, "I always am."

"Right," he agreed, "I forgot who I was talking to."

She shot him a sarcastic smile, but then added sincerely, "Thank you, Jack. For everything."

When she walked away, Jack's friendly grin fell into a troubled frown he did not intend for her to see. He raked a hand through his hair.

"Don't thank me just yet," he murmured under his breath.

* * *

As Valentina approached the bathroom she was startled to hear pained grunts and hushed cursing coming from behind the closed door. She frowned as the noise became more distinct. It was definitely Pitch. She'd know that indignant voice anywhere and by the sounds of discomfort emanated, his head was giving him grief.

She just wanted to run in there and help, not twiddle her thumbs outside the door like a meek little mouse. Surely she was better than that? She stood at the end of the hall, her feet sinking into the plush carpet as she debated what to do.

It didn't make sense to her why he was trying to put as much physical distance between them as possible, when only an hour ago he'd been… well, all over her. As soon as she tried to reach out to him, he'd given her that _look_. Like something of a caged animal who had no qualms over biting the hand that fed it.

It always seemed to happen this way. As soon as she thought she was getting closer to understanding him, he'd contradict it all. And she would be left to mull things over and re-evaluate just how she'd managed to fall head over heals for the man. The Nightmare King no less! Apparently fear was a far more powerful aphrodisiac than she'd first thought.

As the Guardian of Love she should have known better. But she would be the first to admit that her heart had a way of ruling her head almost to a fault. Even in times such as these when he'd made himself perfectly clear that he didn't want her help…

She couldn't bring herself to leave.

"Pitch?" She rapped on the door. "Pitch, are you okay?" There followed silence a beat too long before he answered.

"I'm fine. Everything's fine."

 _Yeah, right,_ she thought to herself. "You might have a shot of convincing me if you'd open the door."

She could almost feel his scowl through the timber. "Valentina, for the last time-"

"Hiding in there isn't going to make anything better," she insisted, crossing her arms and leaning against the cold wood. Why did he have to make this so difficult? Honestly, he could be the most prideful, resolute-

"Please," came his muffled, indignant retort, "I'm the Boogeyman, I don't hide from anything. People hide from me."

How ironic. She almost spluttered from sheer incredulity. "So open up," she demanded, having enough of his brooding.

There was no response.

"…Pitch?"

Valentina flinched as a particularly loud yelp sounded from behind the door. Trying the handle in a panic, she found fortunately (or perhaps _un_ fortunately) he'd forgotten to snip the lock. She wrenched it open. And froze.

 _What in Manny's name…_

What she found in the cramped amenity was nothing short of grotesque.

The side of Pitch's face was smeared with some ghastly tar-like substance in a dismal cleaning effort. The basin was similarly coated, as was the wash cloth that hung limply in his hand. This gunk was oozing slowly from the gash on the side of his forehead. At the sight of it she felt the contents of her stomach churn.

"Shit," was all she could say. A justified, if not completely helpful response.

Pitch was livid. He bristled and glared daggers at her, if only to compensate for the fact the he felt completely exposed. It just made him look all the more frightening.

"What did I tell you?" he hissed defensively as she gaped at him.

Of course she had to. Why he thought for a second that Valentina would relent was, in retrospect, a mystery. It was all he'd asked: Just one moment to sort out this bleeding - and he was bleeding quite a bit - mess he'd found himself in, knowing that for her to behold him in such a state would likely send her fleeing for the hills.

Her face blanched, and he could not tell if it was out nausea, repulsion, or both.

 _This is it_ , jeered his glum cynicism. _This is when she finally understands the horror of what she's dealing with_. Really, he was only surprised it hadn't happened sooner. There was no question she was going to run away, disgusted and abhorred.

Until she didn't.

To his astonishment, Valentina strengthened her resolve and marched right up to him. Her determination disarmed him completely and he stumbled in an ungainly fashion back into the wall.

"May I?" She asked, holding out her hand for the cloth. He gave it to her in a stupor.

She rinsed it out in the basin under warm water, and proceeded to gently try and clean from cheek bone to temple what he'd missed.

With the way he arched back from her - as though she were the one gushing bodily fluids - she had to lean over him just to reach. She planted a hand on the wall behind him so to steady herself, virtually pinning and trapping him there with no way to run and nowhere to hide.

And Pitch - poor, bewildered Pitch - could only stutter a breath as he tried to make sense of why she hadn't fled screaming like a banshee at the sight of him, let alone why she was now _touching_ him. Granted, he had seen a moment of hesitation, but she'd snapped into action so quickly thereafter that his brain was still clunking into gear just to process exactly what had occurred.

"What…" he rasped, "are you doing?"

She shot him a wry smile. "You know, for someone so intelligent, you ask a lot of obvious questions. What does it look like I'm doing?"

He blinked at her, unable to come back with some snarky retort. Instead he chose to rephrase his question. " _Why_ are you doing this, then?"

"Funnily enough, I don't want to see you keel over just yet, and while you've given this a gold star effort I think I can be of assistance," she answered drily.

She chewed her lip as she tried to scrub without taking half his face off; something she was sure he wouldn't thank her for. Pitch winced from the roughness of it, but to Valentina's surprise he did not complain. In fact he seemed rather shellshocked.

This stuff was incredibly difficult to remove and when it did, it came off in clumps as though it was trying to stay together, latching on to the cloth before she quickly rinsed it down the sink. The look of it made her skin crawl.

"Pitch, what exactly is this?"

He shifted uncomfortably, trying to avoid her gaze, a difficult task when she was inches from him.

"It's everything I am," he revealed reluctantly, "the manifestation of fear and darkness combined. It's my lifeblood, as are the shadows it's akin to."

She tilted her head in morbid fascination as the jet black raced down the plug hole, not quite moving with the water, but rather of its own accord. _This_ was why he was acting so strangely. He had recoiled from her, not because he suddenly despised her, but because… he'd assumed the opposite?

"Is that why you freaked out before? Did you think I wouldn't be able to handle it?"

"Can you blame me? I thought you'd take one look and be away faster than I could blink." He crossed his arms over his chest and met her eyes with his sullen gaze. "If you cut me I don't exactly bleed. It hardly makes for an appealing trait to most."

In truth he was correct. This dark matter came very close in compelling her to shy away from Pitch in his distressing state. But stronger than whatever repulsion she could muster was the fact that she cared much too deeply for him to let it get the better of her.

"Spare me the melodrama," she tittered, picking up the bottle of antiseptic he'd been using and pouring a little on the cloth.

When she glanced back up she saw his dejection. The way he seemed to find a sudden fascination in his feet told her this was really something that bothered him. It made her heart twinge just a little. And for what? It wasn't like he could change it. It was just… him.

 _Oh Pitch, what am I going to do with you?_

Forming an empathetic pout, she sighed and set the bottle down. "Pitch, it is what it is."

His mouth formed a cooked line and he glanced back at her beneath hooded eyes.

"Come on, do you really think I'm that superficial?"

He only quirked a brow in response. It wasn't that he thought that at all. No, he'd only been certain that she'd take one look at what was really inside him and throw any belief in his good nature aside. For how could light exist in pure darkness?

She raised her hand to his cheek, coaxing him to look at her, "I don't care what you're made of. What I do care is that you trust me to not be so fickle. I mean honestly!" She smiled wryly. "At this point I don't think there's much more you could do to really scare me off."

Perhaps that was the wrong thing to say.

Ever unpredictable, and renowned for his temperament to shift as unexpectedly at the shadows themselves, there emerged in Pitch a devilish smugness at the ambiguity of her throwaway comment. He gave a low chuckle. Striking quicker than a snake, he encircled her waist with one hand and pulled her to him swiftly, entrapping her with minimal effort. He leered down at her, a fiendish smirk playing on his lips.

"Is that a challenge, my dear?" He purred, tracing her jaw with a slender finger.

She told herself that she wasn't the least bit frightened. That despite her racing pulse, he was only reassuring her that he was regaining some semblance of his normal, quick-witted slyness.

Though, that fluttering could have more to do with the way he'd pressed himself to her.

"No!" She laughed, however this was tarnished by a nervous tremor.

Which he noticed. His teeth were revealed in a wicked grin.

"What I mean is…" What _did_ she mean? All coherent thought was lost as he dazed her with those sulphuric eyes.

"Yes?" He urged her teasingly.

"I…"

"Do go on, darling," he drawled, throughly enjoying having her flustered, "I haven't got all day." He was hardly above enacting a little harmless payback, especially after she had insisted on so rudely barging in, and the blush that crept into her cheeks more than satisfactory.

"I… I don't mind your shadows."

His brow shot up and his hold slackened. He was not expecting her to say something like that, and as a result he shrunk back from his playful domineering.

She chanced a brief triumphant smirk. Instead his hand now merely rested at her hip, allowing her to twist around so she was facing the mirror hanging above the basin.

"I mean, look at me," she elaborated, "I'm nowhere near perfect. I look like a chipped teacup and the reason why is nothing to be proud of."

With his hand still lingering at her waist, he stood next to her and peered into the reflection. After such an ordeal, they really did look a frightful pair. His gaunt, grey face stared morosely back at him, his hair spiked up in an unruly shock, and he was now the proud owner of a gash that promised to leave a very obvious scar - a prospect that settled oddly with him.

Glancing at Valentina, her own face was drawn, tired and stressed now that she was back to square one. She was slight in comparison to his tall, lithe figure, and he could have sworn her fractures had darkened just a little. Yet she still captivated him. No matter how she looked, she would always be kind, stubborn, loving Valentina who still found ways to infuriate him, who hadn't written him off as something to be done away with.

"But if you managed to see past that," she said craning her neck to look up at him, "the least I can do take you for what you are. I'm not running anywhere. So would you let me take a look at that cut. Please? Before the blood loss goes to your head?"

Though her earlier boldness had left him somewhat impressed in a stunned sort of way, he was reclusive and self-preserving. As strange (and slightly hypocritical) as it might be considered, it was rare for him abide unsolicited contact, and her asking permission set him far more at ease. Slowly, a thin smile graced his lips.

"If that's what you really want," he conceded as he bowed his head to her. "But only because you do make for a rather fetching teacup."

She swatted at his arm with a begrudging smile before retrieving the cloth. "This may sting a little," she warned as she wrapped it once around two fingers.

Before he could dwell on it too much she dabbed the wound with the dreaded antiseptic. He gave a half suppressed yowl and sucked air through his teeth as he winced, which only made his already tender head throb even more so.

"I think… it's on fire," he rasped, and spat a string of colourful curses to follow

Although she didn't enjoy inflicting such discomfort in a process of necessary evil, Valentina did find herself suppressing a small laugh at his vulgarity.

"Sorry Pitch," she apologised, trying to clean the last of it, "but whatever Emily Jane was aiming for, she really managed to pull a number on you."

"I shouldn't be surprised," he groused, "she's become incredibly impulsive and highly unpredictable."

Valentina hummed an amused agreement. "Just like her Father, it would seem," she observed with mirth.

It wasn't until he slumped against the wall that she realised he'd been rendered catatonic.

Just like her Father… The words reverberated around his mind. The throbbing in his head increased tenfold.

 _Like her Father…_

 ** _"Daddy!"_**

 _The raven haired girl came running down the hall towards where he was standing in the grand foyer, hazel eyes bright with an elated smile. He dropped to his knee and caught her as she leapt into his arms and hugged him tightly._

 _"I thought you were gone," she giggled as he picked her up, clinging to him like a monkey._

 _"And leave without saying goodbye? Never!" he exclaimed, planting a kiss on her cheek._

 _"Mummy said you had to go quickly," she reported with a pout. She looked mournfully over his shoulder to the beautiful, regal woman who watched them from a step behind through intelligent green eyes._

 _"I'm afraid Mummy is right," he confirmed sadly. His little girl looked positively heartbroken. Her eyes pleaded for it not to be so, and her quivering lip tugged at his own heartstrings. He wondered just how he was going bring himself to leave them both; Again._

 _"But you just got here," came her dejected sigh as she rested her cheek against the cool, armoured shoulder plate of his military uniform._

 _"I know… I know."_

 _It never got easier, and in an instance such as this where he was called away so urgently it meant there was even less time to bid their farewells. His only consolation was keeping them safe. With a sombre look at his wife, he found solace in the reassuring smile she offered even though it pained her all the same. Closing the distance between the three of them, she gave his arm a comforting squeeze._

 _"But I'll be back just as quickly," he promised her._

 _"That's right Emmy," reassured his wife, taking her hand, "he'll be home again before you know it."_

 _"And when I get back, you can take me out on your schooner and show me how you've been getting along. Like we were going to do tomorrow. How does that sound?"_

 _Her head perked up from where it had been laid against his shoulder at hearing this and a beam stretched across her face._

 _"Okay," she agreed, nodding vigorously. Then, abruptly, she clasped a hand to her mouth. "Oh! I almost forgot!" she gasped, and wriggled in a way that told him she had to be put down right now. This very instant._

 _He set her back on the ground and she grasped his hand to insist that he look to her. "Don't go anywhere. Don't move an inch," she ordered, her face utterly serious as though it were life or death._

 _The woman's ears had pricked up. "Emily Jane, where are you going?" Asked her mother with a slight frown. "Your father has to leave soon."_

 _The girl gently tugged her down to her level so she could whisper in her ear, and in hearing the secret, she smiled and nodded. "Be quick, darling."_

 _Without another word, Emily Jane raced off back down the hall, her dark hair fluttering in loose waves behind her._

 _"What in all the worlds is she on about?" he asked her, his gaze following the retreating little figure before it disappeared round the corner_

 _"Just wait a moment, you'll see," she alluded quietly, straightening herself up and sweeping the drag of her skirt behind her. She fiddled with the lustrous fabric, fussing over it far more than necessary, and it was then he noticed that her eyes were brimming with tears._

 _He knew this was hard on her, as it was for all of them. But she always endeavoured to save face for their daughter. It was only when they were alone that she allowed the strain to show - and even then she tried to keep it discrete. He took her in his arms and she curled her fingers to his chest as her own rose and fell with a deep, stuttered breath._

 _"Now, now. None of that," he coaxed gently, brushing the stray wisp of hair that often fell in her face back to its elaborate twist._

 _"I just wish you weren't going, Kozmotis," she told him with a small sniff, "at least not right now."_

 _"As do I. But I'm afraid, my dear, that is one luxury we cannot afford." He sighed wearily. "You have no idea how difficult it is for me to leave you both so soon."_

 _She gave him a sad smile. "I do," she said, "because it's even more difficult to see you go."_

 _And it would have been. There were any number of untold dangers that he might encounter on the voyage, each plaguing the family with worry in anticipation of the next call to arms. He and his command were usually triumphant against the Dream Pirates, but their enemies had become more brazen and ruthless of late. Though he was hailed as one of the greatest and noble warriors the Golden Age had seen, nothing was ever guaranteed._

 _"Promise me you'll be safe," she implored of him. She fixed the high collar of his uniform and smoothed down the gold and red embroidered lapels of his coat._

 _"For you," he said, tilting her chin, "anything." And he kissed her, savouring it for all it was worth._

 _"Will Emily Jane be alright?" He asked, glancing down the moonstone pillared corridor from which his daughter was yet to reemerge._

 _"She will," replied his wife, following his gaze. "She'll miss you dearly - we both will. But she's brave." Her forlorn expression lifted with a proud smile. "If there is one thing either of us can count on, it's that she is nothing short of courageous." Her hand came to rest over his heart. "Just like her father."_

 _"And joyful - like her mother."_

 _Sound of running feet traversing the stone floor reached them before their owner did. Emily Jane was sprinting back, a little out of breath, and in her hand she held something that glinted silver in the soft light of the villa foyer._

 _"I found it!" She gasped, and screeched to a halt right in front of him as he broke away from his wife. "Daddy, Daddy look!"_

 _He dropped to his knee once again, smiling inquisitively at her. "Emily Jane, what do we have here?" He drew her close with a one armed hug while she pressed the thing into his other hand._

 _"I made it for you," she said excitedly, evidently proud of her work._

 _The small, shiny object was a locket. It was threaded onto a delicate, long chain, and graceful swirling patterns adorned the metal casing. He recognised it as one of his wife's own pieces, and shot her a confused glance when he thought she might miss it. But the smile she returned assured him this was her contribution to Emily Jane's gift. When he opened the locket, the picture of his daughter gazed back at him, and he felt his breath catch._

 _"Do you like it?" Emily Jane asked quietly, concerned now that he didn't when he was yet to say anything - There was a lump in his throat that he had to swallow._

 _"Yes. Yes, it's wonderful," he said, giving her shoulders a tight squeeze. "Thank you, my darling girl."_

 _He placed it around his neck, tucked it beneath his collar for safe keeping, and kissed her forehead. Above the family, their clock struck the hour informing them that all too soon their time was up._

 _"Kozmotis…" his wife urged and he nodded, turning back to his daughter._

 _"I'll be back soon," he told her._

 _She looked to him with pleading eyes. "Promise?" She said._

 _"On my soul." He replied…_

 _"-tch-Pitch-PITCH!"_

"Agh!"

He gasped, cradling his head at the searing pain that felt akin to being blinded by the sun.

"Pitch? Oh, thank the gods."

He glanced up and Valentina came into focus. He must have given her quite a turn as she looked pale with worry. She was on her knees, placing a hand to his forehead and it was then he realised he'd ended up on the ground somehow, seated up against the wall. The drag of his cloak was strewn open, with one knee propped up, the other extended out so it nearly reached the opposite wall.

"I lost you for a minute there," she said, taking his pulse.

He made a non-committal noise in response, still woozy and not quite ready to form complete sentences. He brought a hand to his head finding not only was the wound clean, it was also wrapped in a gauze that encircled his head. A fashion in which he suspected made him look something like Frankenstein's monster.

"Pitch? Talk to me, are you ok?"

 _Talk to her…_ comprehended his brain. Talk to Valentina.

 _Valentina_.

All he could see were her eyes. Deep green eyes with subtle flecks of earthy brown he should have seen before now. Eyes that were so uncanny in their resemblance he almost spun himself out yet again. He remembered now. He remembered _her_. He remembered _everything_. "Valentina, how did you know that dance?" He muttered the question before he even knew what he was saying.

She was taken aback and her startled expression betrayed as much. "I'm sorry?"

"The dance!" he repeated urgently, almost feverish as he grabbed her forearm with a burning hand. "Before, when that music started playing you took my hand and it was like you'd been doing it for years even though you only just learned a basic turn."

"I… I don't know," she stuttered, somewhat alarmed by his grip, "I told you that already. You led the way, I was simply following."

"No, you have to learn those steps, no one is that good on their first try," he rebuked, shaking his head - an endeavour he immediately regretted.

Valentina was at a loss. She had no clue why it happened, nor had she the opportunity to dwell on it since. And with the Boogeyman's current state, it was a wonder she could even think of it at all. "Well maybe I did once and I just don't remember," she pondered, hoping that answer would be satisfactory enough. "All I knew was that the music seemed familiar and I just knew what to do. I can't explain it."

Pitch's gaze lowered as he tried to piece it all together. "But you shouldn't know it. That music is not only from a different place, it's from a completely different time… But you did. You even knew my name as well."

"Of course I did." She threw hands up exasperatedly. He was sounding more and more unhinged with every word. "Pitch, I knew about you before we met. You're not exactly subtle when it comes to scaring people"

"I'm not talking about Pitch Black," he corrected impatiently, "I mean Kozmotis. That was my name and you knew it somehow, even before I remembered it myself." His eyes narrowed searchingly. In fact, there were many things that Valentina seemed to know or preempt - things that occurred that he couldn't explain. They were not phenomena as strange as was her affinity for nightmare sand, but rather little occurrences that he found to be anything but inconsequential. On occasion it was a slip of the tongue, and at other times it was something particular that caught her interest. They were things that left him with questions. Such as why, in all his years of solitude, had he been so drawn to her, and her to him? Why, when he looked at her, did he see an answer to his yearning for a family? Why had she learned to care for him? Why did she refuse to _fear him?_

He stalked towards her on hand and knee slowly. His headache was barely registered, dulled to a nagging discomfort but nothing more than white noise as far as he was concerned. Suspicious and scrutinising, he stared down as he drew closer and not once did he break that hold. She stumbled back, finding her self pressed up against the wall opposite to him with nowhere else to go. It was a very small bathroom after all. Her heels scrabbled and scuffed the floor as she brought her knees up, instinctively shrinking back from the Boogeyman.

"What else do you know, Valentina?"

Heart pounding, his face inches from her own; Valentina had seldom been afraid of Pitch Black before. But as he leered at her, into her very soul it seemed, she was conscious of the fact that these things she had been keeping close to her chest had the potential to either placate him or send him into a rage. At this stage, she wasn't sure on which side of that coin he would land. What would he think of her if he knew? The answer to that question frightened her above all else. It frightened her because, moon above help her, she was going to tell him.

"Do you want to know what I know?" She asked, voice trembling. "All I know it that ever since I touched that sand of yours I have been loosing my mind every night to dreams that I can't explain."

 _Dreams_. He fell back on his haunches and blinked slowly, considering this. It was certainly strange that of all the things that might disconcert her, Sanderson would be the one to bring her most unstuck. "But that's not all," he deduced, sifting though her fears that trickled over to him and through her. "Among these dreams there are nightmares, aren't there?"

She nodded. "Just one. I'm-"

"No, no. Don't tell me," he dissuaded, "let me see it." He closed his eyes, peering into the depths of her subconscious. As he concentrated his brow twitched. "Yes, just the one. A recurring nightmare indeed. In it, you are falling, are you not? Tumbling through the air, with no way of knowing which way is up?"

"I don't particularly want to relive it, Pitch," she shuddered as he inadvertently coaxed the fear from her.

"Forgive me. It's been quite some time since I've had the pleasure," he said silkily. "While this is hardly anything original, being the only one out of so many of your fears that could manifest as a nightmare, for you it is oddly specific. Especially since most others are only concerned by the sensation of falling. You, on the other hand, seem to anticipate certain deat-" His voice cut as soon as he realised what he was saying. He felt his breath quicken in his chest. _Surely not._ But he couldn't reject the thought when little coincidences were piecing themselves together one by one, forming the skeleton of a startling conclusion. "What are you dreaming of," he asked softly, "in these unexplainable visions?"

Valentina hesitated, her hands forming a knot of anxious fingers. "I dream of her," she said. He didn't need to ask who of. The look on her face said it all. "And all those things you told me. I see them like I was there and more. They're vivid. There are times I think they're almost real. You're with her sometimes too."

He felt something writhe deep in the pit his belly and there was a ringing in his ears that intensified. "Why haven't you told me this?" He demanded fervently

"I didn't know how to!" she cried, breaking her fingers apart only to clench her fists. "I wanted to say something but you already had so much to consider, I thought knowing about my dreams was the last thing you needed."

He reached desperately for her, clasping her shoulders. "What does she look like? When you see her, what does she look like? Tell me." He had to know if what he was thinking might be true.

"Dark hair, hazel eyes," she described almost wistfully, "and the most wonderful smile I've ever seen. She's never older than six, but she's wild, adventurous and brave, and she _loves_ you, Pitch. She loves you so, so much."

Yes, she had. Once. A very long time ago. His grip on Valentina's arms had by no means lessened, and now he was clinging to her as though she were a life-raft. Wide eyed, heart pounding in his ears, he was vaguely aware of a tear slipping down his cheek. When did he start crying? She was staring at him, with pools of green he could drown in, and he knew where he had seen them before. How could he not have seen it before?

"Valentina, what if there is a reason my wife hasn't found me?"

He looked at her intently, to the point where his meaning was lost on her. "I-I'm not following," she stuttered, looking utterly bewildered.

Even in the face of her confusion he could barely contain this feeling, this hope that was unlike anything he'd ever known, that squandered his fear if only for a second. "She said she would find me some how. And all this time I've been waiting..." there was an uncharacteristic breathless quality to his voice, verging on what otherwise might be mistaken for madness. "...But what if she already has?"

Her reaction, however, was far from reassuring. A light bulb seemed to flicker on in her head as she finally understood what she was implying. "No," she denied. She broke free from his grip, and scurried (as best she could being floor bound) away from his reach. "No, Pitch-"

"Why not!" he cried, in-between a state of elation and despair. "You can't deny it's the only thing that makes sense."

"Because what you're suggesting is impossible," she rasped, "I can't be… No!"

"But what if it is possible? What about the boy, what about Jack," he reasoned desperately, "he was brought back just like you were."

"Pitch, you know my story. I died two hundred and thirty odd years ago. Your wife perished a long time before that. Our timelines don't even have a chance to converge-"

They were interrupted by a knock at the door.


	17. Righteous and noble

**A/N:** I know. It's been over a month because life just happened. But if it's any consolation I have an extra long update here that's taken literally all month to get right. Or there about. I was going to split it because it almost got too long, but everything seems to work better this way I think. Plus there's a bit of a surprise twist at the end...

Also, a big shout out to all ye who followed/favourited/reviewed. It was wonderful to see some new readers!

 **Slang:**

Missus = wife

 **Reviews:**

 **Crossover Junkie:** Indeed he might be! And I was definitely thinking of you when I wrote that in. I've been wondering how to incorporate it ever since... chapter 2? Yes, you're absolutely right about Val, and this chapter ponders more than one type of love. Now I guess she's got to figure out who needs her help the most. One day I'm gong to make a playlist of all these songs you keep mentioning I swear...

 **Skyress1:** I wonder, _did_ flattery get you anywhere? Hahaha

 **MyNameIsMordecai:** It took a while but as promised, your chapter awaits...

* * *

Valentina came to a dead stop mid sentence. Someone was outside. And who knew how long they'd been listening.

"Pitch! Stop hogging the bathroom. It's been, like, half an hour."

It was Jack. Pitch dropped his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, internalising a groan as he did so. First Valentina, and now him? It was almost miraculous how he managed to attract attention in the very moments he least wanted it. Sure, he'd come close to pleading once or twice in the past for almost anyone to see him after centuries of being ignored - not that he'd ever, _ever_ openly admit to it. But it had been to no avail, and _now_ was when the powers that be decided to grant him his wish? The Universe was cruel master of irony, apparently.

"Just… a minute," he faltered. He was already distracted and he didn't trust himself to say anything else should those words be something he'd regret later.

At least it was only Frost. Strange as it was, he didn't feel as bitter toward him as he did the other Guardians. In fact, he'd grown rather fond of the boy. It took a moment, but in hearing Jack's snark gradually the manic state he'd worked himself into subsided.

What was he thinking?

Of course it was madness. Complete and utter madness chalked up to the fact that he was still recovering from an ill-timed flashback, 'blood' loss, and a possible case of concussion to boot. No wonder the spirit woman he'd half accused, half begged of being his dead wife was gawking at him like he'd gone completely insane. Come to think of it, he very well might have… yet still, he could not let the idea rest.

Wrenching herself out of her stunned countenance, Valentina staggered to her feet with one hand to the wall; she wasn't sure she trusted herself to stay standing _._ Without hesitation he did the same and stood at her side. When she appeared to waver he slipped a hand to her back and took hold of her arm with the other to steady her, despite how his own head was still spinning. At first he thought she might recoil from him and he would hardly have blamed her, but when she turned her head to look up at his face she held his gaze with the weight of words unspoken. There was something there in that look. Uncertainty perhaps. Or the dawning of a realisation.

They both startled when the sharp rap was heard again.

"Did you fall in or something?" came Jack's snide jab from the other side, an attempt to lure Pitch out.

Any other time he might have gladly jumped at the chance to put the pest in his place. Today was not that day. For so swiftly had Valentina denied even the possibility that they were once something more, that he was left to wonder at the reason for her adamant resolve. All he could say for sure was that he'd frightened her. However, it was not him that she feared. Looking at her now, her face was set in a tense, emotionless mask that refused to betray the turmoil of her mind. She'd been shaken by his sudden bout of… irrationality, and in the space of only a minute or two she had gone from shock to genuine, sustained fear. A fear so strong he could practically breathe it in.

Unlike the terror he usually craved, that would otherwise have him relishing in ecstasy, this anxiety Valentina projected didn't settle well with him in the slightest. It disrupted his concentration as his alertness faded in and out like the static of an untuned radio, and the power surge it gave him was almost intoxicating. Certain fears happened to affect him differently. The fears of a child for instance were pure, simple, and incredibly powerful. The crippling anxiety of an adult, on the other hand was just as strong, but far less tameable. Even for the Boogeyman. Once she spiralled, he was just as caught in that web as she was and it was so challenging to distance himself when that fear came to him so willingly.

In and among the chaos of incoherent thought, however, one fear did make itself known to him loud and clear: _What if he's right?_

And oh, how that fear enraptured him.

 _So she does think there's a chance!_ rejoiced the faint little voice in his head. She had seen the connection too, if only for the fact that she couldn't deny the eerie coincidences, but he knew now it wasn't just a nonsense theory courtesy of his own imaginings. Through the drunken fog Valentina's anxiety induced, that rare inkling of hope broke though once again, a confusing kaleidoscope of emotion. He had to try and block her out, as difficult a task as that was. He needed room to think.

"How much do you suppose he heard?" Valentina whispered, wary of confronting what lay behind the door. A slight trembling of her voice was all that outwardly gave her away. He could sense her trying to squash down the many thoughts that were setting her on edge, and he was about to warn her against it when Jack called out one more time.

"C'mon Pitch. Everyone's here and I still gotta find Val. Is this about the whole appearances thing again? Look I get it, you wanna make yourself pretty, but I promise nothing you do is gonna help - _oh_." Jack ceased shouting very abruptly.

Thoroughly unamused, Pitch had swung the door open to greet the frost sprite with a withering look.

"No," he agreed, his tone insincerely bright, "I think you're quite right on that front."

Jack's eyes widened when he saw the bandages that wound their way around the Nightmare King's head. It was the most sorry excuse for a 'crown' if ever he'd seen one, and he had to choke back a laugh at the hair that stuck up at odd angles because of it. "Woah." The corners of his mouth twitched ever so slightly. "What happened?"

Pitch reported dryly with a wry sneer, "I'm not entirely sure. After the window exploded everything becomes a bit of a blur. I seem to recall a flying dictionary though."

Jack was unable to restrain a fit of giggles at the thought and his shoulders shook with the effort of not letting them overtake him. "I was wrong," he wheezed, gesturing to the gauze, "this is actually an improvement."

"Very funny," he said in lowly voice, dripping sarcasm. With his usual grace and dignified posture despite emerging more than a little worse for wear from a bathroom of all places, he moved out into the corridor, revealing Valentina in the doorway.

"Val?" Jack's brow shot up as he glanced from her to Pitch. His face then split into a knowing grin. "So… you _did_ find him, huh?"

"Not right now, Jack," she deflected wearily.

As much as she was glad to see him back to his usual jovial self, she was in no mood to join the frivolity. Her thoughts were racing. Each question she asked of herself was more dizzying and overwhelming than the last, and try as she might to ignore this awfully, nauseatingly familiar feeling creeping into her stomach, she knew it would not stay silenced for long. It was lying in wait, coiling tighter than a spring.

Reading the situation, though not entirely understanding why they were both acting so strange, Jack cleared his throat awkwardly. "Okay. Well, the others are out there. We were kinda waiting for you. And Pitch."

"What?" Pitch's eyes snapped over to the end of the corridor from where an incessant babbling of aggravated voices drifted. Trepidation pinched his features. "Why are they waiting for me? Why do _they_ want anything to do with me?"

"You were there," Jack reminded him. "They want to know anything you know. Plus, Mother Nature is your kid after all… isn't she?"

With the intent look Jack gave him, as though genuinely curious to know if they were indeed the same person, Pitch felt obliged to answer: "Yes."

"And you also think it was her that did that?" He pointed down the corridor to where debris and shrapnel were drifting through the open door of Valentina's room.

He didn't think; He knew. That storm and the rage of its winds had her written all through it. But exchanging any sort of information with the Guardians wasn't just a tall order — between them such a thing was virtually unheard of. And on the subject of his own daughter? They couldn't be serious.

"Maybe I don't want to tell them anything," he scorned, "has anyone thought of that?"

"Then I guess they'll take matters into their own hands," Jack reasoned slyly, being perceptive enough to know that was the last thing Pitch wanted.

There were no two ways about it. If he didn't intervene, they would act. And who knew what sort of chaos they could bring about? Being civil was the only way he could ensure they didn't royally screw him over. And not that he and Emily Jane were on speaking terms by any means, but he would be damned before he let any sort of harm come to her at their hands. As much as he dreaded the thought, it was time for him to take his own advice and come out of hiding from the world. His enlightening conversation with Valentina would just have to wait. With a frustrated sigh he dragged a hand indelicately over his face. "I suppose there's no point in prolonging the inevitable," he grumbled to himself more than anyone else.

When he saw Valentina hovering in the doorway his scowl lessened. By the look on her face, she wanted to see them no more than he did, and he found that just a little bit comforting. He held out a hand, both coaxing her into bravery and silently begging that she not have him face them alone. To his relief she joined him, but though she walked at his side, she did not take it.

Jack led them back out to the globe room to find that Tooth, Bunny, and Sandy were conferring with North. The four stood in a quiet huddle with Toothiana hovering inches above them, her iridescent wings sounding a low hum. Chittering empathetically over her shoulder were three mini-fairies. They all spoke in turn rapidly, looking with concerned expressions at one and other, and then back to North. Sandy was contributing to the conversation through use of glittering sand symbols, and from what the newcomers could tell he was none too pleased at being called away from his work in the Asia-Pacific region.

When the sound of their footsteps announced their arrival, the group flinched and riled at the sight of the Boogeyman out of habit. Pitch had to admit their reaction delighted him immensely. If there was one thing that could improve his mood, it was that he could still scare the supposedly fearless Guardians by simply making his presence known, and a spike of unease was all it took. Some things never changed.

"Ah Jack! You found them," North crowed once their weariness settled, ever lively and energetic no matter the circumstance. "What is taking so long?"

"There was a bit of a situation," Valentina informed them.

Much to his discomfort, all eyes were trained to his forehead and the unusual look it was sporting. For ages it seemed they stood there, ogling him like some kind of side show freak. Being gaped at in terrified awe he could abide by, but this felt horribly like ridicule and he made a mental note to have the bandages removed as soon as possible. It took every fibre of his self-restraint not to forcibly wipe the stupid looks off their faces.

"Just take a damn picture. It'll last longer," he snapped at them.

To Jack's amusement, their eyes were quickly averted to avoid being scowled at. "I have been meaning to get a camera…" he began with a snicker, but the winter sprite promptly shut his mouth at the glare Pitch shot his way.

"That looks pretty painful. Are you alright?"

It was Toothiana that spoke. In a curious turn of events fuelled by a spontaneous bout of sympathy (or stupidity), she was the only one who had decided to brave his hostile gaze. She twiddled her thumbs out of nervousness that he might anger if he thought he was being pitied. She couldn't have been more wrong.

Instead, he was baffled by her concern. Never before had the Tooth Fairy bothered to ask him something like that. In fact, none of them had. Not even once. The realisation left Pitch with a strange hollowness he didn't care to dwell upon. "Yes, I'm fine," he said, and her cautious expression lifted.

"Thank you," he added quietly.

Something regrettable must have crossed her mind. He could have sworn a mournfulness wilted Toothiana's features for briefest of moments before she nodded and it disappeared. "Val?" She asked, turning her attention to the Guardian at his side.

"Fine," was Valentina's unusually short answer. Tooth frowned slightly, but if she thought something was wrong she made no comment.

Bunny, charmingly tactful as always, was becoming antsy at the stagnant conversation and his nose twitched in what was almost a nervous tick. "Seriously? You called us all the way out here to tell us everyone is 'fine'?" he asked North incredulously. "What gives? Where's the bloody fire?"

"It was more like a blizzard," Jack muttered.

"For once, I agree with the hairball," clipped Pitch in a smarmy tone, "I'm dying to know why _any_ of this is necessary." Suddenly he was at the cossack's ear which startled the group into dispersing slightly, leaving North rooted to the spot. "North, I thought I made myself perfectly clear they were to have no business in my affairs?"

"They are not just your affairs anymore," North reiterated sternly, standing his ground. "They are here because North Pole was put in firing line. When someone attacks one of us, they attack all of us and everything we stand for. They threaten the children we swore to protect. And given the strange events of past few weeks, we cannot safely rule out possibility that someone has more sinister intent than just getting back at you." He decided not to add that he didn't doubt whoever it was probably had a perfectly valid reason for their resentment toward the Boogeyman. It wasn't like Pitch was exactly popular among the various spiriting realms.

Meanwhile, Bunny's hackles were raised. "Woah-woah-whoa wait. Attacked? Who attacked?"

"It was Mother Nature," said Jack definitively.

"We do not know for sure," interrupted North, hasty to correct any misinformed presumptions.

"Please!" Pitch retorted scathingly as he turned on his heel and strode away from the Guardian of Wonder. "When are you going to wake up to your own self-righteousness, cossack? It was her. I know it, and it has nothing to do with any of you. This is to do with me and what's mine, and I will not have you interfering in matters that you have no right to be concerned with."

"It does concern me when lives are put in danger under my own establishment," North argued. "You were gone all day, a very easy target out in open, and she waited until you were back here to strike? That does not happen with out ulterior motive."

All the while Sandy's face was etched in shock. He had known Emily Jane before she was Mother Nature, long, long ago. He'd happened across her on his voyage as a Dream Master, trapped within a stagnant shooting star that was alight with the fury of a thousand suns. They became allies and over time he'd managed to help tame the rage that consumed her, but he'd also had the misfortune of bearing witness to her heartache when Pitch revealed himself as a nightmare come to life. Despite this, when Sandy last parted ways with her, she hadn't seemed to wish ill upon her father. Instead she'd merely warned him that he was past saving. To think that now she was actively trying to harm him puzzled the dreamweaver indeed.

He interjected silently, his images roughly translating to: " _I do not understand why Emily Jane would be harbouring such cruel intentions, especially after so many years. I never thought she could be so malevolent_."

The little man's contribution irked Pitch more than words could express. He held a deep seated resentment for the idea that Sanderson of all could have ever been more trusted by Emily Jane than him. "No, you wouldn't understand," was his venomous response, "none of you would. She was trying to prove a point."

"Then help us to," Tooth urged as the mini-fairies chirped an enthusiastic agreement. "What is she trying to say?"

"It's not what she's saying, it's what she's doing," he corrected frustratedly, raking a thin hand through the crest of his hair. Then he sighed to himself, knowing what he was about raise was an incredibly delicate subject. "I'm sure you all remember a certain girl from long ago. A storyteller and a Guardian herself?"

"Katherine," North inferred wistfully and immediately.

"Who?" asked Jack, looking perplexedly from one spirit to the next. Valentina was no help, she looked just as confused as him.

"One of original Guardians chosen by Manny," the former bandit imparted in his gravelly register, "she was one who brought us all together during Dark Ages. Very special little girl, very bright."

"And it's with that girl that the bulk of my troubles with Emily Jane began. Having grown bitter with hatred and scorn, she saw my endeavours to… corrupt… young Katherine as an attempt to replace her with another."

In his peripheral vision he saw North's hand reach reflexively for the hilt of his sabre.

"Wait!" he halted, "before you draw your sword and avenge her, cossack, let me admit that I know what I tried to do was deeply misguided. I thought I needed her fears to survive. They were among the most pure and powerful I'd ever come across, and at the time I didn't know there might be other ways to gain strength — ones that were not quite so damaging at least. And if I'm being honest…" though he couldn't for the life of him think _why_ he was, "…I suppose I did see something of my daughter in her. Though I never had the intention of replacing her. But I digress. She told me to never lay a finger on Katherine, and technically I didn't. But I did taint her dreams and Emily Jane, the one you now call Mother Nature, saw that as an act of war. In finding that loophole I only proved what she suspected of me all along and in revenge she swore that I would never know kindness again. If my own actions weren't bad enough seal my fate, I'm almost certain she has personally made sure of it to this day."

"Yeah? Well, serves you right." There was a fiery air of justice that Bunny exuded. He couldn't care less if Pitch had just come as close as he ever would to bearing his soul. Katherine had been dear to all of them and as far as he was concerned, any remorse shown was long over due. It brought him a great deal of satisfaction to see the Boogeyman squirm. "I bet you regret that one big time."

"Trust me," gritted Pitch, "I have paid for it every day since."

" _What have you done, though? Why would Emily Jane have angered now?_ " signed Sandy.

"Why do you think?" Bunny's stare suddenly veered over to where the Valentina had been standing by the whole time. "It's cause of Cupidonia," he finished coldly.

Valentina, who had given up all efforts to actually be present in the conversation, was startled out of her resolve. His accusation hit her like a freight train.

Pitch wasted no time in marching up to the hapless Pooka, stopping only when he was looming directly above him with a black, wolfish snarl. "Listen to me, Rabbit, and listen well," he hissed, "you had better be very careful about what you say next."

"Or what?" challenged Bunny, rising to match his height. "You think I'm afraid of you? You're a shadow sneaking low-life, and she ain't any better. You can keep your issues to yourself, no problem, cause Moon knows we don't want 'em. We've had enough trouble since she showed up and it's only gonna get worse! You know what they say: It only takes one rotten egg to spoil the whole bloody basket. I dunno what Manny was thinking but there's no way known she has what it takes to be one of us. How could a Guardian — how could anyone tolerate you if they weren't scum themselves?!"

"HOW DARE YOU SPEAK ABOUT MY WIFE THAT WAY!"

The silence that followed was more deafening than Pitch's bellow.

The room was sent reeling. Disbelief rendered them speechless as they tried to figure out if they really had heard him correctly. Pitch's arms, which had been tensed with balled fists, dropped languidly to his sides when he realised what he'd done. His face contorted in frustration and regret. As had happened many times before, his self-control failed him when another was too keen to bring forth his hurts. He had forgotten himself.

"What do you mean Val is your wife?" North's jaw worked through the syllables in a way that said he did not truly understand what he was asking.

He should have kept his mouth shut. What the Hell was he supposed to say to them now?

"She…" He turned at a loss, hoping that maybe Valentina would be able to say something to mollify them. Only he realised she was gone.

"I need a drink," Bunny muttered absently. "A stiff drink."

Pitch paid him no mind. He was more worried about the distraught woman whose panic he could feel was was eating her alive. She was barely coping, and it was with that knowledge that something strange happened: His heart began to ache. Not in the same way it had _because_ of her, rather it ached _for_ her. It was the kind of pain only felt by loving another more than anyone could ever love themselves. By having another's troubles become their own. And for his half-blackened heart, the sentiment was almost too much.

For the very first time the Nightmare King, who gleefully threw scores of people and children into the throes of terror, simply couldn't bear the thought of someone — his someone — being so anxious and miserable.

Foregoing any attempts to deal with the Rabbit and his ilk, his only objective now was to help her if he could. He made to walk away from the globe room when Tooth screeched to a halt in front of him. Her feathers bristled and her tail fanned out menacingly. The fairies at her aid were poised to attack at a moment's notice.

"Explain," she commanded.

"Let me through, Toothiana."

"I'm not asking, Pitch. What do you mean?"

He pressed his lips into a tight line, stealing concerned glances down the corridor to where he knew Valentina had fled. "Even if I wanted to explain I can't, because I'm hardly sure of it myself," he said bitingly.

"Just. Try."

The warning look she fixed him with was so intimidating, he might have been impressed had he not been the one receiving it. "Fine!" he exclaimed, throwing an exasperated arm into the air. "I have reason — No. I have several reasons to believe that the woman _he_ just blatantly insulted is somehow my wife. Obviously, I didn't mean to call her that, but when provoked…" He glared at the Pooka. "She knows far too much for everything to just be pure coincidence. She knows things she didn't even realise she knew! It was her who reminded me of my former self after she spoke my name in her sleep, and it was only after she kissed me that I saw a vision of the woman that used to be mine."

Though they might have suspected it, the others were not exactly aware of the fact that he and Valentina had shared a kiss (more than once). As a result that little detail was met with reactions ranging from shock and intrigue to outright disgust.

"North, where'd'ya keep the eggnog?" Bunny requested weakly out of the corner of his mouth.

The toy maker dropped a key into his paw without taking his eyes off Pitch. "Kitchen, liquor cabinet," he murmured. "Bring bottle."

From his dreamsand, Sandy created the silhouetted picture of a family: A soldier, a noblewoman, and their child. " _Lady Pitchiner?_ " he was asking.

"The very same."

"How is that possible?" marvelled Tooth, "Isn't she…"

"Dead?" he finished for her when she couldn't seem to do so herself. "Oh yes. However, if there's one thing I'm sure of…" He trailed off as his gaze settled on Jack, frowning slightly while he considered the boy. "It's that nothing is ever as impossible as it seems."

"Does she know?" she asked.

"She does now," he sighed.

"So," Bunny broke in before he took his leave, "even your own missus eventually ran away from you. Figures."

Despite the fact Pitch could very easily rain down fire and brimstone on the insufferable Pooka, he chose to ignore the indignation that boiled in his blood. He'd learned his lesson for being too quick with a silver tongue. It just wasn't worth it.

"Say whatever you want about me," he permitted flatly. "If all I am to you is a good-for-nothing, villainous wretch, so be it. But don't do the same to Valentina. Just… don't. The worst thing she ever did in her right mind was give a damn about me, and she's being punished enough for everything else. Whether she really is my wife or not, I never want to hear you speak of her like that again. Do I make myself clear?"

There was no need for intimidation. Having never spoken so genuinely before, his sudden selflessness and lack of sinister intent was more jarring than any threat he could have devised. Bunny at least had the decency to look repentant, and by the Guardian's silence he was assured they'd reached an understanding.

"Good."

With Tooth having drifted to the side, appeased, he turned his back on all of them without another word.

* * *

 _Breathe, Valentina._

By a stroke of dumb luck she had managed to find that room again. The room filled with failure-deemed toys. It was the one place she could be sure she wouldn't damage anything of great value to North. Which was very fortunate indeed.

She had started to turn again when hatred manifested in the form of Bunny's scathing accusations. Only this time, those words had been aimed directly at her, making them all the more deadly. Knowing she had mere seconds before the reigns were taken out her hands, she'd bolted. She could not — _would not_ let what happened last time happen again, and only when that door was slammed shut would she give herself over to the Other.

Those few minutes were wiped from her memory. Frankly, she hoped it would stay that way, because seeing the resulting destruction when she came to was frightening enough. Objects were scattered haphazardly, broken from when they'd hit the ground or shattered by a lethal blast. Blackened and singed marks peppered the walls at random intervals, and there was even a hole burned clean through the plastic of a doll's house. The last thing she noticed was a pretty porcelain figurine with dark waves and earthy green eyes that had miraculously survived the attack, barely even disturbed. It's lavishness was accentuated by the pale green dress it donned, though the fabric was smudged and stained after years of neglect as well as her own outburst. The innocuous doll sat opposite her with its head tilted almost inquisitively, like it was simply curious as to why she would do such a thing.

This all came to her as a shock reminder of what the Other was capable of, and it proved to be the last straw before she finally snapped. On the ground, she clutched her knees to her chest and dug her fingernails into her palms while she was completely overwhelmed. She emitted an odd, strangled noise when her throat decided to close up, fighting against the shudder that was building in her chest. This wasn't her first time experiencing an attack like this. She knew the motions, horrid as they were. However, it always astounded her that the voice in her head could be so calm while every inch of her was caught in the tendrils of a cold panic. Each time its instructions were the same:

 _Just breathe._

She did as it commanded, gasping one breath in, then releasing it, and starting again, no matter how much her lungs protested. She breathed through the sickening of her stomach, which felt like having her entrails squeezed by the deadly coils of a boa constrictor, and she breathed through the thousands of thoughts that took on a life of their own. Eventually though, she could no longer hold back her tears and she allowed her body to be wracked with heavy sobs. It might have looked undignified but she always found crying in this way helped. Because when the spell passed and panic was gone with it, reason was able to take its place.

He was right. And she knew he was. As if it wasn't insanity enough that she had been brought back from purgatory once by the Man in the Moon, somehow she could recall another life lived hundreds — if not thousands of years ago. It didn't matter if she couldn't explain it, the evidence all pointed to that one answer. And it _was_ the answer, for when she admitted this to herself suddenly all the things that had confused her were finally making sense. Which in itself was both reassuring and terrifying all at once.

 _Easy. Breathe. Calm. Think._

His wife. That's what Pitch had called her when he'd cried out, so enraged by Bunny's accusations against her. Just as she'd turned tail and fled, it hit her like an avalanche, sweeping the ground out from underneath, or so it felt. What was so astonishing, she supposed, was how to be called his had sounded so immeasurably _right_. It had taken every ounce of her will power not to turn back despite the danger of her situation. Even now as his voice rang in her ears, her heart raced. Though, in light of her current mental state that could be for any number of reasons.

 _But I can't be. No it's all wrong! We barely know each other — That's a lie. You know each other better than you know yourselves — Oh shut up, brain!_

No… he had been referring to her as the wife he once knew, and she was Valentina. There was a difference. She couldn't be just a personality replicated in a new body, it was not that simple. She had experienced so much unique to herself in this life which had inevitably changed her; Locked in a loveless marriage, sacrificed for the good of an innocent child, and spending the following two hundred and thirty years completely alone. No, Valentina Cupidonia was not a wife, or that woman. Only part of her was. The part that might have known part of Pitch.

"Kozmotis," she uttered in a tremulous whisper.

She wanted to hear that word for herself, testing for how peculiar it might sound now. But instead it was surprisingly welcome and comforting. Forming the name on her lips evoked the grandeur of galaxies. It whispered to her of bravery and honour, and in it she saw clusters of stars burning bright and constant — So very different from the darkness that loomed behind them. That would eventually engulf them. She wiped at the fresh tears that fell hot against her cheeks. _It would have been a nice name for him,_ she thought _, something righteous and noble._

Could she really have been that man's wife? How could she be certain when she knew nothing about the woman? She needed to know more. Had she been bold? Daring? What was her name?! Valentina was swept away by the strange excitement of curiosity, but it was quickly replaced by sorrow. Whoever that woman had been was as lost to her as Kozmotis was to Pitch. In fact, there was almost nothing to suggest either of them had ever existed at all.

Except perhaps a child.

Valentina cupped her hands over her mouth. There had been a child. One who was very much alive to this day. So that meant, if what she thought really was true…

 _Oh Gods._

Had her hands not been there to stop it, a manic laughter would have escaped her. No, it was absurd. She knew that. So then why did this extraordinary feeling wash over her like a breaking wave after being held back for so long? It had been building ever since Pitch had first uttered Emily Jane's name, only she hadn't known what it was until now. It was love, that much she could be sure of. However, it was a type of love she herself had only ever witnessed, and one which she had always been certain would never belong to her. But with every dream and vision of the girl, whom to behold was like looking at her own reflection, she had become more and more resolute that they were somehow inextricably tied. Now they finally made sense. For they were not dreams at all; They were memories of her daughter.

"Emily Jane!" Her voice emerged as only a whisper.

That's how she could be certain: She had an irrevocable love for a girl she had never even met, but who she knew without a shadow of a doubt was her very own flesh and blood. Or had been. It was something she felt deep in her soul, and it chilled her to think it might have endured countless years of being trapped in the abyss of limbo, waiting to be reunited with what had once been taken from it.

Her head fell back against the wall with a gentle thud, and she pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes until patterns of stars burst behind her eyelids. Too much, she thought, it was all just a bit too much. When she took them away she had to blink through the lingering dark blotches, and it was as she did this, through the window across the room, that the Man in the Moon decided to grace her with his presence. A moonbeam stretched across the floor, bathing the toys it captured in a cold, eerie light.

"You."

She was on her feet and darting to the window before she knew she'd even stood up. Grasping the sill with white knuckles she stared up at the glorified rock that looked down upon them all. She was not humbled, or awestruck. She was angry.

"You knew something about all this. Didn't you?"

The Man in the Moon had only ever spoken to her once, and she thought he had been kinder to her than Jack in telling her of her purpose. Only now she was beginning to suspect there was something more to the renewal of her lease on life. Something she wasn't being told.

"Damn it, why didn't you say anything?!"

As was his typical way, he gave her nothing.

"I wandered this Earth for over two centuries completely alone," she lamented through gritted teeth, "like you let me believe I was. All that time they were both right here and you knew that! Then I finally figure it out only to possibly have everything taken from me again in a matter of weeks?" She looked down at her arms which showed just how dark her fractures had become after her transformation back into that creature. It filled her with rage. The clock was ticking for her, and yet the Man in the Moon could only spare cold indifference.

In her reproach, Valentina was unaware that Pitch had silently emerged from the shadows behind her. The shade had been ready to rush to her side, wanting nothing more than to ease the fears that had called to him. But he faltered when he saw, to his dismay, who she was speaking to.

"I suppose I should thank you," he heard her say wryly, "for at least pointing me in the right direction. But I cannot forgive the fact that you would put me in a position where I could have hurt him so easily in my ignorance. I will still try to help those children I failed to protect in any way I can, I swear on my own life, however, if you think even for a second that I'm still a part of your vendetta, you're dead wrong. I know Pitch has done terrible things, but he has since learned how to use fear in other ways. I've seen it. I have seen how he protects them as much as any of the others. He might frighten them, but he does so because he knows it will keep them safe. He was once was a noble man who had to overcome a fate worse than death. He can be that man again if he's given the chance. And I…"

Pitch barely knew what to think. He was weak at the knees and if he'd thought his ability to care for Valentina had reached its capacity before, he had not known of the way his heart could be full to the bursting upon hearing her declaration. He gravitated towards her, but froze when she continued on with a last desperate plea.

"I don't want to ask anymore questions. I know I'm only going to be disappointed. But after everything you've put us through the least you can do is tell me where can I find Emily Jane. Just tell me!" she cried. "Where is my daughter!?"

Pitch couldn't stop the stuttered breath that escaped him, and that, Valentina did hear. She turned her back on the Moon, facing him rigid and tongue-tied despite the impassioned appeal she'd just given. He had his gaze fixed on her, completely ignoring the useless, luminous orb and its Tzar who had taunted him for far too long. He couldn't think of what to say, too overcome with admiration and humility that not only would she speak so highly of him, but that she would blatantly defy The Man in the Moon for his sake.

And that she would call his daughter her own.

"Valentina, do you really mean that?"

She could feel the wretched tears brimming at her eyes again but made no efforts to blink them back. "Yes," she said, "how couldn't I?"

That look of inextinguishable hope had returned to him, and with each step he took towards her his spirits rose. "Do you really think it could be…"

"I know it is."

He was so very near her, but in refusing to accept the magnificence of what he was hearing should it be a cruel trick of his own ear, he was hesitant to reach out for her. "How can you be so sure?" he asked.

She faltered. It seemed almost wrong to say what she was thinking, like there wouldn't be room for her in this life she had been envisioning. Yet she did. For it was the only truth she had faith in. "Emily Jane," she declared eventually, and in speaking the name her lips formed a trembling smile. "When you first told me about her it was like this... this light flickered on inside of me. Hearing those stories, it was so indescribable I thought, 'no one could know what this feels like'."

He had to bite back a crooked smile at her. Of course he knew what it was she'd been feeling. Or at least, he knew something very similar.

"Each one was so familiar it was like…"

"A memory."

"Yes!" she gasped. "And for so long she was all I could think of. I thought I was going insane. But Pitch, she's _mine_. I know it like I've never known anything and I'm sure I thought it deep down for a long time I just never-"

She was interrupted by his lips on hers. Her eyes widened in shock, and then slid closed as she sank into his embrace. Her arms wrapped around him, and his hand found its way to the nape of her neck, gently caressing it to grab a handful of her hair and pull her to him as the kiss deepened with a yearning that had lasted millennia. It was in that kiss that she was told everything she needed to hear; the unspoken reassurance that chased away any last shred of doubt.

When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers while they held each other tightly. "Forgive me," he said breathlessly, "but you have no idea how long I've been waiting to do that."

For a moment, they stood in the peaceful silence of the island of misfit toys, allowing themselves to simply just _be._ From where her head came to rest against his shoulder she could still hear the thudding of his heart, not nearly as cruel and dark as it had once been. She pressed a palm to his chest, feeling the way it beat quick and steady beneath her fingers, and noticing how it gradually dissolved any fear she had left into a quiet murmur that could wait to be another day's problem. He tucked her head under his chin, though not before planting a kiss in amongst her hair and breathing in the scent he'd become so familiar with.

"Pitch, you have to understand something," she broke into the quiet. "I'm not her. Not in the way I used to be. My life has been different, with its own set of circumstances. I would hate to disappoint you, but I'm just not the same."

"Maybe that's a good thing," he murmured. "After all, neither of us are who we used to be."

She considered this for a moment. What he said was very true. They were both so changed that perhaps it didn't matter if she felt an uncrossable distance from this person she'd once been. There was a connection to that past, and there always would be, but for Lord and Lady Pitchiner, the Golden Age was the only place they could ever happily exist.

"I still have a lot of questions." she sighed.

"As do I," he agreed, though it irked him to acknowledge his ignorance. He considered himself an astute and perceptively cunning man, so to be presented with yet another unanswerable 'why?', or better yet, ' _how_?', sent vexation simmering through him. "I might be able to answer some of yours, though. What are you thinking of?"

"What was I was like."

"Ah," There was a devilish grin that curled his lips. "You, my dear, were quite deceptive when you wanted to be."

Her eyebrows drew together in a frown. That didn't sound like her at all. "What do you mean?"

"If I remember correctly, you were not exactly forthcoming about a certain _minor_ detail. Not until it grew too big to be kept secret."

"I don't… wait." Her brow rose when it finally clicked what he was teasingly alluding to. "I didn't tell you?"

"Not for the whole two months I was away after you knew," he laughed softly. "By the time I got back it was fairly obvious, so imagine my surprise upon learning you'd been carrying a little stowaway the entire time." He spoke with mirth, thought in the moment she could see him being anything but amused. She wanted to cry foul. Surely she wouldn't have. But had she not dreamed of a similar situation wrought with apprehension? Before she could defend herself he continued: "I'm afraid the fault was mine, not yours. I'd made it quite clear that I didn't think myself equipped to raise a child, and you were so concerned over what to say that you never said anything at all."

Now that. That did sound like something she would do. Avoid a problem for as long as possible until even her own body betrayed her? Valentina's eyes nearly rolled to the back of her head. Typical. "Let me guess. You were deliriously happy and I was an overcautious idiot?"

"On the contrary. I was inconsolable," he deadpanned. When she gave him a surprised look he shook his head with a light smirk. "I may have overreacted a little, but loved her from the moment I knew," he assured her. His face became drawn with with regret and he sighed. "Valentina, I swear I never stopped."

She knew. She squeezed her arms around him just a little tighter. The Moon almost seemed to glare down through the window, casting a harsh silhouette of them as their shadows intertwined on the scuffed floorboards.

"He won't help, you know," Pitch informed her regrettably as he eyed their intrusive observer with a sneer. "Especially not not now. He has a nasty tendency for favouritism."

"I thought that might be the case," she muttered, curling her fingers round the edge of his cloak where it passed over his breastbone. Peering at the night sky from where he had her nestled, she found there was something exhilaratingly rebellious about embracing the Guardian's sworn enemy in full view of the Man who appointed her to join them. _Let him look_ , she thought. She felt she was well within her rights to do so. "I just wish I could speak to her. Or even see her."

"That might also be easier said than done," he admitted ruefully, having by no means forgotten Emily Jane's wrathful curse. "She's not exactly in a mind to speak to… either of us. Especially when you, darling, have been so unbelievably patient with me."

"I am going to have a very long talk with her about that, don't you worry," she vehemently assured him, and then blinked in surprise. Where had _that_ come from?

Pitch gave an amused hum in response. "There isn't a doubt in my mind."

She smiled into the velvety fabric of his cloak at just how bizarrely things were starting to fall into place. Why, it had only been a short while ago when she had refused to even hear of her possible identity. The resulting guilt seeped its way into her stomach. "Before," she started abashedly, "when you said I might be… her… I didn't mean to push you away like that. I was just…"

"…scared? Yes, I know," he reminded her, carding his fingers though her tangled curls. "When I realised how bad it was getting I followed you as soon as I could. Although, I don't think I would have made much of a difference — you handled everything wonderfully yourself."

"No. I didn't."

A chuckle rumbled in his chest, vibrating oddly against he cheek. "You did. You chose flight and made a decision instead of freezing up this time. There's no dishonour in running if your instincts tell you to." Then he added more quietly, "even if it was me you were trying to get away from."

"Pitch I did not run from you at all," she said firmly. "I ran because I turned."

"What?" he exclaimed, tensing abruptly. He took his arms from around her to hold her face in his hands, searching it with a panic stricken expression. She really was pale and it was no trick of the moonlight like he'd first thought. Glancing around the room, he saw just how terrible the state of it was. "What happened," he demanded urgently.

"When Bunny said those things about me I just… I had to leave. Because he was talking about me that time, somehow it was worse."

Having contracted to cat-like slits, the look in Pitch's eyes was beyond frightening. The tendons in his neck bulged and tensed while his jaw clenched furiously. He was absolutely livid. "I'm going to skin that rabbit alive," he vowed lowly.

"No! You are not going to do anything of the sort, do you hear me?" she told him, gripping his shoulders short of shaking some sense into him. "He's looking for a reaction and you're giving it to him."

"You think I can just sit idle by when not only does he openly disrespect you, but he actually manages to harm you!?" he rasped. "I can't. I won't! He knew it could do something terrible to you, if not kill you and I-" his voice broke off in anguish as the vision flashed before his eyes. Valentina, disappearing, slipping through his fingers like dust. _We were denied the pleasure of draining your wife and child of their dreams_ , the repulsive Captain had once jeered to him. Not because the soulless creatures had been had been caught, oh no. His wife was dead. And he had been much too late to save her.

"Oh, Pitch."

He was shaking. Tears tracked their way down his cheeks and with her thumb Valentina wiped them away. She bade that he look at her. She saw a terrifying thought haunted those golden eyes, and she swore to herself then and there that she would do everything in her power to never let it darken his mind again.

"Pitch, listen to me," she told him with words that were firm and grounding. "I'm not going anywhere. Nothing like that is going to happen. Not if I have any say in it. It would take more than a few comments from Bunny to break me, but you have to let me handle what he said. The last thing I need is for you to send yourself off into a rage and take him with you, do you understand?"

He clutched her to him, afraid to let go should she vanish like an apparition once she was out of his reach.

"I can't lose you again," he choked.

"You won't," she promised, though it was almost smothered by the lump in her throat. "We made a deal, remember? I'm not done with you yet."

"To Hell with that bloody deal," he suddenly growled, almost making her jump.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard what I said. What we made was a simple trade; your assistance for mine. But I don't want that bargain to be the reason why we're not done. That's not what this should be. We have a daughter - We were married! I'm not even sure what that means considering the technicality of 'till death do us part' but I do know one thing: This cold and blackened heart knew nothing of light and love — Nothing! Not until you reminded me that those things used to be mine and showed me that they could be again. As far as I'm concerned you have paid off any debt in full even if mine still stands. I would happily do anything you asked of me."

He pulled back to look deep into her eyes and drew a breath.

"I love you, Valentina."

One would assume, as the Spirit of Love, that those three words had been heard by Valentina many times before. Indeed they had, but they had never been intended for her in living memory. So it was as Pitch declared his undying adoration for her that she truly understood why so many chased with great fervour this type of love she tried her utmost to help them find. For he meant it with such ferocity that it was all she could do to not melt at his feet.

"I love you, too," she confessed softly. And never had she spoken it more sincerely.

Just he tilted his head with the intention to kiss her again (they were making up for lost time after all) he jerked it suddenly towards the door, now mysteriously ajar. Valentina followed his suspicious gaze and saw the tell-tale lingerings of an icy handprint wrapped around the edge of it.

"What in the name of darkness…" he hissed.

Seeing any evidence of tenderness vanish in an instant, Valentina was quick to place herself between him and the eavesdropper who lurked outside. It would have taken every scrap of courage he possessed for Pitch to say what he had, and he would take none too kindly to an unwelcome audience, no matter who it was.

"Pitch, wait a second. Before you do anything, remember, it's just Jack. He's not out to get you."

"Like Hell he's not."

"Pitch. Let me talk to him, okay?"

The noise emitted from the back of his throat was not a pleasing one, and he was itching to let fly with _something_ so that it might stamp down the flush of embarrassment he felt at having been caught admitting to something so personal. But he let Valentina have her way.

Peeking round the doorframe, she found the frost sprite in the corridor, pressed to the wall with the most peculiar expression on his face. He seemed deeply torn between whether he should succumb to laughter or abashed nervousness.

"Jack." She made sure he heard the note of warning in his name.

"I didn't see you guys making out, I swear!" he denied with his hands raised in surrender. "North told me to come find you, he said you had to come back and he sent me cause he was pretty sure Pitch would kick anyone else's butt all the way to the Antarctic and he said at least if it was me I wouldn't mind," he rushed, words pouring out of his mouth so fast Valentina almost couldn't keep up.

From inside the room there was an unexpected bark of laughter. The two peered back into the dark, only to find its owner had vanished.

"And he's quite right," agreed a silky voice from behind them.

Jack flinched tremendously upon coming face to face with the Boogeyman, who fixed him with a glare that was so heated, it was a wonder he didn't evaporate on the spot.

"What," he gritted out, "could be so important-"

"It's Manny! Seriously, you guys have gotta see this!"

Pitch and Valentina gave each other little more than an uncertain glance before Jack took it upon himself to drag both of them away, with an icy wind following fast on their tail to speed them up. Irritable and spitting threats the entire way back to the globe room that he may or may not have intended to keep, the Nightmare King fell abruptly silent when he saw just what the Man in the Moon had really been doing at the North Pole.

The room was tinted with a pale, etherial light that was concentrated on what he could only discern to be a moonstone crystal. Though this was not exactly what had rendered the four Guardians standing around it speechless. Projected above the crystal there was a figure — No, several figures. To his astonishment a scene was playing out before them, and judging by the group's collective stupor, this was not a normal occurrence.

The figures depicted were quite obviously a crude representation of the Man in the Moon's chosen spirits themselves, and they appeared to be charging into battle, skilfully attempting to thwart their enemy. It was that which garnered his attention. This thing was monstrous. It towered above the brigade of heroes, hulking and massive. He could see it swiping and stamping at them with hooves that could rival iron clubs and it was then that he realised he was very familiar with its formation indeed. It was some grotesque mimicry of his Night-Mares. This, however, possessed none of the same finesse or care in craftsmanship that he endeavoured to create his own mares with. The only true likeness he could draw was that it was completely out of control.

Valentina's eyes grew wide as she stared up at the vision. "But that's…"

"Us," Tooth finished.

Except there was one more. Someone nobody present would have ever thought they'd see fighting alongside the Guardians.

 _"All_ of us."

As his luck would have it, all eyes were drawn once again to Pitch Black as he came to grips with the horror of his own waking nightmare.


	18. Little more than dirt

**A/N:** My god it's been a while, eh? Apologies for my unofficial hiatus, I'm hoping the next update will be much quicker! Now, this is a much shorter chapter than the last two (which felt crazy long to me at 9000-10000 words), but it really goes hand in hand with what I have planned for the next one, I just made the decision to split because, a.) length and b.) it's been far too long since the last chapter. Still, it's fairly action packed so... no hard feelings? I'm still not sure about how this one reads so drop a review or IM if you have questions. I'm hoping things are easy enough to follow so far.

As always, my love goes out to those of you who followed/favourited/reviewed. Even the views on the last chapter were phenomenal for what I usually get (or is that just because it was long? Whoops...)!

 **REVIEWS:**

 **Crossover Junkie:** I think you've caught on by now that I love to take some inspiration from your comments, and what you imagined certainly influenced Pitch's reaction (I hope that's ok!). Aw! I'm so glad you think so! That's best thing I could ever hope to hear for Val so thank you times a million. I'm making a really conscious effort to give her genuine flaws, after all she's far from perfect. You may have noticed she tends to let her heart rule her head - which makes sense given who she is. She's just doing her best, like everyone else.

 **Skyress1:** Looking back I highly appreciated the melodrama of your review. Let's hope things aren't quite so grim for our heroes going forward...

* * *

Though Pitch had always considered himself to be a man of decisive action, there were some instances where even he, so quick with his wits, was at a loss for what to say or do. And much to his chagrin, this just so happened to be one of those times.

For several minutes he stared up at the footage. Over and over it replayed the scenario again; Him, hurling powerful magic at something that so closely resembled what he had created, yet was nothing like his once-considered masterpieces. And he was doing so to _help_ the very band of spirits he'd once vowed to crush under his heel like squirming insects. There was no mistaking it. They were all accounted for; The snide turd of a dream weaver, the abrasive Pooka, the jovial frost sprite. Even his Valentina was among them, the miniature figure of whom stole proud glances at his own imitation in-between deflecting dangerous sand blasts. Dare he even think to admit it to himself, in standing united with them he looked nothing short of heroic…

And it caused the acrid taste of bile to rise in his throat.

What he saw was a mockery. A ghost of his past self jeeringly dangled just out reach by the Man in the Moon. As his stomach clenched and his mouth became dry, Pitch felt he had two options; Discuss things rationally with a level head — Or obliterate the crystallised source of his vexation entirely.

"Well?"

Pitch spoke calmly with the softness of velvet, though he was none the less intent, and as he did his sharp amber gaze pinned each of the Guardians in turn, searching all of them for anything that wasn't a look of dazed shock. No such luck; They only blinked back at him like a parliament of stunned owls.

"…Well what?" North repeated, uncharacteristically meek.

"I'm waiting."

"Waiting for…"

"For the punchline to what is apparently Manfred Lunanoff's depraved idea of a joke!" he finally snapped.

Calm be damned, he could not accept this. Perhaps he was hallucinating… Yes. He'd obviously hit his head harder than he'd thought, and it was responsible for this abomination of a reality he'd concocted for himself. Either that, or the Man in the Moon had an even darker sense of humour than he did. Which, all things considered, really wasn't too far outside the realms of possibility.

"It's not a joke, Pitch," said the Fairy Queen, astonished that he could suggest such a thing.

"Damn straight. Manny would never mess around with something like this," Bunny agreed, though the growl of his heavily accented voice betrayed exactly how he felt about what he was seeing. It was no secret the bottle of eggnog he held clenched in one paw would mysteriously disappear by time the night was through.

Pitch's breath hitched and the Guardians observed as an expression of shocked outrage slowly warped his features.

He was serious. The Man in the Moon was actually being serious. After everything he'd done, and after all he'd endured from these spirits at the command of the Tzar, he, the infamous Boogeyman, was being offered a Guardianship? His rage boiled over and for a second he could have sworn he literally saw red as blood thundered past his eardrums. But Pitch did not act as rashly as he so easily could have. Nor did he destroy the very Globe Room that North and his colleagues held dear, like they had been bracing themselves to expect.

No… Instead, he walked with his head held defiantly high until he was standing directly beneath the pale beam of light, illuminating his gaunt face eerily.

"With all due respect," he hissed, sneering up at the silver face of the moon, "either you mistake me for some kind of imbecile, or you're completely insane." His response elicited defensive gasps from the Guardians, sans Valentina who was observing the exchange with a critical eye. But Pitch remained undeterred by them, and he addressed his 'old friend' as though his audience were not even present. "You can demand all you want of me, from now till the end of time, but you will not con me into being one of your little toy soldiers, _Tzar Lunar_."

"Pitch, you don't-"

"Don't what, North? Say 'no' to the spoiled child?" the dark man challenged rhetorically with a sweeping gesture to the sky. "Well, this wouldn't be the first time I've done so, and until he learns how to take a hint, it won't be the last." Turning his attention away from North, Pitch's final declaration was intended for the Man in the Moon, alone. "I am not a Guardian, and I never will be. You're as much a child as the humans you attempt to wrap in cotton wool if you think changing me to fit your ideal little world is going to work. I'm not supposed to be good like the rest of them. I am not supposed to be loved. That's not who I am!"

Taking in the expressions of the Guardians, he was not confronted by the resentment he usually evoked, but rather he garnered doleful, downcast aversions to his gaze. No one sounded a response, and he didn't know if that was because they were too speechless to speak, or if they were silently agreeing with him. Whatever it was, he couldn't bear it any longer. He couldn't bear this _place_ any longer. He'd been cooped up in the stifling confines of the North Pole for far too long and claustrophobia was starting to fester within in him (the irony of which did not escape him in the slightest). In meeting Valentina's eyes for a brief moment, he knew she disagreed, he knew exactly what she disagreed with, and it was why he hoped she knew of his regret before he did what he did next.

 _I'm sorry,_ his mournful glance said.

Before any of them could think to plead the Moon's case further, Pitch summoned a swirling vortex of nightmare sand which engulfed him like a black hole, an impressive display of his power even when basked in moonlight. The twister then dwindled and dissipated. The Nightmare King had vanished without a trace, leaving Valentina to face the affronted horde of childhood spirits for the first time since he and Bunny had gone toe to toe. She didn't even think to resent him for it.

"Val, is it true?" Tooth's quiet voice cut through the silence left in Pitch's sudden absence, and Valentina blinked in a confused fashion back at the fairy hovering beyond the raised crystal.

"What are you talking about?"

"Pitch told us everything about you. At least what he thinks he knows," she explained, flying over to where Valentina stood while the others gave various affirming nods. "We're just not…" _convinced_ was the word she struggled to express. "Do you actually think what he said is true?"

Her surprise at the fact that Pitch would have told them anything at all aside, she was well aware of the dubious gazes she received from the uncomfortably shifting collective. Though they tried, they could not conceal their revived distrust of her and who she allegedly was. It was a blow to her morale after feeling like she'd made some progress with them over the past couple of weeks, but given they were clearly seeking one answer from her, there was no gentle way to let them down.

"I have never been more sure of anything in my life," she confirmed to poorly masked bewilderment. Tooth simply offered a stiff nod, acknowledging but not entirely believing what she was hearing. "And just so you know," she added, "I didn't run away from Pitch."

It was here that Bunny's ears perked up. Two pairs of green eyes met instantly resulting in an almost palpable tension that permeated the room. Minutes seemed to pass in what were only a few seconds as Valentina held his stare, trying to read his thoughts. She couldn't be sure if he'd understood exactly what his blatant overreaction had done to her, but when it became clear he was going to offer no apology, not even for his cruel remarks, she averted her gaze to the fairy at her side.

"Tooth, I'm still me, " she reassured her friend. "I know this might difficult to take in. I'm having trouble coming to terms with it myself, but I think it's true. I want to believe it's true. And let myself hope that it might be because of Emily Jane. Tooth, I don't know how to explain it but when I think of her I just know. It's something undeniable I feel deep inside."

"Not to be the skeptic, but you've never even met," she pointed out as sympathetically as she could, "at least not in this lifetime. How could you know? How could either of you have even guessed?"

"Because there has to be a time when I was that poor girl's mother." she stated firmly. It was funny; The more she said it, the more strongly she held her conviction, and it felt good to be sure of something. For once. "Those dreams I told you about? I think they were memories of her."

The fairy's mouth gaped open. "You didn't say that! Why didn't — I could have helped you!"

"Because I didn't realise! Really, I should have spoken to Sandy a long time ago, I was just scared," she admitted sheepishly to appease the dreamweaver who looked sternly to her with his arms folded. "But I suppose none of that matters any more. I found those memories somehow in the end, though I appreciate you wanted to help. The bottom line is that I love her and I know I would do anything to find her. Don't you think I wouldn't feel that as strongly as I do if we weren't somehow connected?"

Tooth offered a small smile. "I suppose…" she allowed, though she lacked conviction.

The subject quickly changed when North urgently broke into their low conversation with concern etched on his face. "Val, where has Pitch gone?"

"I'm not sure," she admitted with a troubled frown.

Coincidentally that was a question she was trying to answer, herself. With her old room off limits until further notice, the chances of Pitch still being within North's realm were slim at best. Especially when he'd been so disgruntled by the Moon's unexpected invitation. She couldn't blame him for wanting to leave; Her own indignation at Manny's audacious mind game was significant to say the least. But if he'd retreated to the confines of the shadow realm, she was not confident she would be able to follow him there. She knew he would be okay (someone like Pitch just needed time to simmer down), but he had still been distressed by the ordeal and she didn't want to let him work through that alone. Moon knew he'd had enough centuries of solitude.

"There is something he needs to-"

"I'm going to find him," she decided on a sigh, not hearing what North was trying to tell her. Her own concerns were drowning out the ones attempting to be voiced by the Russian, and she immediately turned to Tooth for assistance. "Can you teleport me to the shadow realm," she asked, ignoring the dangers that the nightmare sand-riddled labyrinth might pose. "It would take me too long to fly there, even if I was as fast as you."

Tooth tilted her head, unsure. "Uh, possibly… but-"

"Wait, not yet. I want to check that he's not still here first." She shifted on her feet, unsure of which direction to begin. Bunny, despite his powerful sense of smell, wouldn't dream of helping her if it had anything to do with Pitch. Even now he was aiming a look at her to not get her hopes up as he worked the eggnog bottle cap and pried it open. "If only there was something that could…" Her voice trailed off as the seed of an idea planted itself in her mind. Perhaps there was a chance she didn't need the rabbit's nose to help sniff the Boogeyman out after all.

"Cupid."

A simple verbal command had the vaporous little pink puff (a creature none of the Guardians were yet to deduce of what it was made) appear in the cup of her hands.

"Cupid, do you know where Pitch is," she asked as the cloud blinked hazily formed eyes at her.

Valentina held her breath. She couldn't fathom how it had taken her this long to even think of this, but at this stage the point of her deductive short comings was moot. If her theory was correct, not only did it mean that Cupid would have no trouble gravitating towards the fear spirit, it would be the closest to a confirmation of their hopes they would likely ever get.

"Val…" North tried to interject once more, only he was completely ignored by the love spirit in her sudden case of tunnel vision.

Slowly, as though awakening from sleep, Cupid seemed to comprehend what Valentina was asking, and upon hearing Pitch's name the wispy cloud sparked with a magnetic energy. That spark told her at least part of what she wanted to know: Pitch was no longer within the Guardian of Wonder's realm.

"He's not here," she relayed to the others, who exchanged uncertain glances.

" _Has he gone back to his lair?_ " signed Sandy.

"Possibly. I don't know. Cupid can sense him somewhere, but it's not here. I wouldn't be surprised if he went home." With a deft wave of her hand, the fragment disappeared in one smooth motion. "Tooth, I'm ready. I'd like to leave now, if that suits you."

"Valentina!"

The named spirit was startled to attention by the cossack's shout and was speechless for a moment before it even occurred to her that he'd been trying to get her attention this whole time.

"Number one: Take snow globe, is much quicker," he insisted, ignoring Tooth's eye roll. "Number two: Before you find Pitch, there is something you must know." North then strode over to find the Book of Guardian Law, reinstalled in its rightful place upon the shelves lining the fireplace wall. The heavy volume was slid out of position and opened in the crook of one burly arm. "He will not listen to me, but he does to you. So I am asking that you explain to him what Manny intended."

* * *

It had been easy enough to sneak out. In fact, leaving undetected was going to be the simplest part of Jack's self-bestowed mission by far. Of course it helped that he was naturally light on his feet, but with all eyes diverted by Pitch's formidable sandstorm, the frost sprite was relieved of any unwanted attention as he slipped through an unlocked window and summoned Wind to whisk him away.

The world passed gradually, far beneath him. Further and further from the North Pole, he traversed the frozen tundras of the arctic, which gave way to a navy ocean, that in turn relented to a patchwork of green fields and sprawling, congested cities as he crossed North America to descend into the Southern continent. Flying with the obliging assistance of Wind, he became vaguely aware of the way his stomach started to nervously churn — a strange flip-flop sensation in his gut.

It wasn't because he just so happened to be looking down.

Coasting thorough a particularly frigid air current, he couldn't help but wonder if he should have told someone, perhaps North, where he was going. If things happened to get hairy during his unexpected visit, the insurance of a bit of extra muscle might have come in handy.

 _Too late for that now, I guess,_ he shrugged helplessly to himself.

Aside from the fact that there were sensitive matters between spirits to be settled, he couldn't imagine having gotten an entirely warm reception for his brilliant idea (though the verdict was still out on just how brilliant it was going to be). He was on his own, and it was probably better that way. The plan was to get in and get out with as little interference as possible. He actually sounded a chuckle to himself at his nagging sense of deja vu. In quieting it, he promised himself this would not end in disaster like the last time he'd tried to confront a powerful spirit solo.

Travelling further South, the air became warmer. Uncomfortably so for the winter sprite. He fought the urge to ditch his hoodie since he wouldn't have to deal with the sticky climate for too much longer — The Amazon Rainforest spreading out before him in a vast blanket of shimmering green was a good indication of that.

He was decreasing altitude now and a sheen of sweat began to bead on his forehead. _Almost there…_ In the distance a magnificent tree to dwarf all the rest rose above the lush canopy and he called upon Wind to propel him forth with the speed of a bullet. Less than five minutes later, without hesitation, Jack flung himself into its mesh of twisting leaves and limbs, dodging the obstacles with practiced ease. Upon reaching the tree's centre, he found his entrance comprised of its very trunk, hollowed out like a pipeline. He flew straight into and through it.

Emerging on the other side was always a disorienting experience, but once he was used to the unprecedented brightness of this place, it was truly breathtaking to behold. The underground forest spread radially from beneath the opening of the tree portal, and enormous roots snaked intricately across the packed earth 'ceiling' high above, adorned with ivy and vines that draped into the canopy below. For as far as the roots reached so did the realm, and it stretched on for a distance that was virtually undeterminable — for this was certainly no ordinary tree. Plant life of every variety populated the forest floor; Pines, eucalypts, birds of paradise, ferns, willows, and countless others grew in abundance, complimented by moss that clung to the surfaces of every boulder and trunk. It was this flora from which the dazzling light appeared to radiate, as though a strange magic pulsated within each and every chloroplast. All this converged on a clearing just below the realm's entrance, basked in the sunlight that filtered down from above, with a ground of both crystal clear water and dark earth that spiralled to a central focal point.

It was here that Jack's feet touched ground for the first time since his departure. Looking around the clearing, he tried to spot his hostess. Being reclusive, she never made it easy on him, but fortunately today she was going to cut their ritual fruitless game of 'I-spy' short.

"Master Frost."

To his right a pair of hazel eyes peered at his own cerulean ones from out of the depths of the rich foliage, and from their shade emerged a young woman. She appeared hardly older than Jack himself, yet with her dignified air one would be correct in assuming her age far exceeded his own. Raven black hair tumbled in careless waves down her back, blowing in a breeze that only she could feel. Her dress and cloak were textured as though the material were borrowed from the undergrowth, with ornate patterns of ivy that clung to her bodice and reached all the way down the lengths of her billowing skirt. As she approached, Jack warily sensed the raw _power_ this spirit exuded.

"Mother Nature," he greeted with a more conservative version of his trademark impish grin. "Long time no see."

She arched a perfectly sculpted brow at him while the faintest hint of a smirk touched her mouth. "If only." A sharp breath escaped her lips that was (not quite) a laugh. "I admit I am surprised to see you here so soon after our last encounter. What brings you? Has Wind not been treating you well?"

"Oh no," Jack replied hurriedly, "Wind's been great, mostly. I mean there was a while where I couldn't call on her properly; Belief in the Guardians took a bit of a hit after the Nightmares got loose. But things are getting better… for the most part."

Mother Nature drifted to the edge of the clearing, tending to a wilting flower and coaxing forth the nutrients it needed from the soil. "So you told me during your last visit," she reminded him.

"…Did I? Oh, right." He was becoming flustered and fiddled the cord of his hoodie. He had to remind himself not to tug it out entirely, otherwise he'd have to re-thread it, and that would be a pain…

"Is there something I can help you with, Frost," she asked with an impatient inflection that startled him out of his resolve. "You know I have no qualms over you dropping in unannounced, but I do not like to have my time wasted."

Jack swallowed thickly under her cold gaze and suppressed a shiver. She was so like her father in knowing how to command attention that he wanted to slap himself for not seeing the resemblance earlier. "Yeah, actually. There is." He stalled momentarily, biting his lip. "I'd like to know why you wanted me to get Pitch Black away from the North Pole." He watched carefully for her reaction to the Nightmare King's name, and tellingly, Mother Nature's eyes narrowed while her brow drew together in a frown.

"I made myself perfectly clear I wished to see him, but apart from that it's nothing you need concern yourself with," she retorted on a slight growl. "You did your job, you've served me well, there's no need for us to speak of it again." Then, with the faintest swish of her skirt, she stepped over the threshold of the clearing to enter the dense thicket, which parted to admit her before gradually closing up. Jack wasted no time in following her before she completely vanished from sight.

"I think there is," he insisted after her, bounding deftly over wayward logs and sidestepping shrubs. "I was happy to do you a favour no questions asked, but when I got back I found out he and another spirit were attacked at the North Pole. So I want to know if you actually saw him like you said."

Nature halted her gait and turned to look him square in the face. "If you must know, yes I did see him." She tilted her head with an icy smile. "Do you take me for a liar, Frost?"

He faltered at her blunt and undoubtedly serious question. "No, I… I don't — Wait, you did?" he stuttered most eloquently.

"In Paris' Luxemborg Gardens," she revealed stiffly. "Indeed, I saw him."

"…But he didn't see you."

She snorted. "You always were the brightest of the seasonal spirits," she drawled with bored affect.

Ignoring her backhanded compliment, he continued his interrogation. "I don't understand. You wanted him out; There he was. Why not confront him there? Why did you wait until he was back at the North Pole?"

She averted her eyes and her jaw set tightly. "Plans change, Jack," was all she imparted to him. Suddenly her gaze flickered back to him and she hardened her resolve. "I won't speak of this anymore. Thank you for your service, but you are hereby dismissed." Once again she turned on her heel and strode away from him, her retreating figure rapidly camouflaging into the green. This was shaping up to be a very short visit.

"Hey. Hey wait!" He bolted after her, the vegetation surrounding him receiving a blanket of snow in his wake. "Mother - Mother Nature!" She was deceivingly quick, and no matter how hard he ran, he wasn't gaining any ground. Wind might still answer to him in this place, but the forest was almost impenetrable and thus he couldn't fly. Losing sight of her fast, he gave one last ditch effort. "Emily Jane!"

The nature spirit stopped as though she'd hit an invisible wall. Jack skidded to a halt in turn, panting hard. Ever so slowly, her head roved until her furious gaze met his.

"What… did you just call me?"

She only spoke softly, but it was far more unnerving than if she had been yelling. Jack gulped, spontaneously hyper aware of the fact the he was not only underground, but trapped in a lion's den with a beast that would not hesitate to claw his eyes out, let alone one that could control every square inch of its domain. Still, he'd come too far not to get some answers.

"That's your name, isn't it," he persisted hesitantly. "That's who you were before all this; Emily Jane Pitchiner. Except you didn't want me to know because Pitch is your father."

Her enraged cry broke through the tranquil silence of the forest, and before Jack could defend himself, she commanded vines to bind his torso to the nearest trunk. In his shock, his staff fell to the ground at the base of his imprisoning tree with a dull clatter, rendering him powerless. He struggled against the constricting ties but found his efforts futile; Mother Nature was not known for her mercy.

"Wrong, frost sprite," she spat. "I never told you, or anyone, because I left that name behind a _long_ time ago. Emily Jane was a foolish girl who hoped and waited for the saving grace of her father who never came. What found her instead was a heartless monster who only broke her spirits time and time again."

The realm darkened as clouds formed low and heavy above the tree line. Jack felt every hair on his body stand on end when a flash of lightning was followed by rumbling thunder. With each strike the electricity in the air came closer, and closer. Nature herself was the picture of a perfect storm, her hair and cloak whipping about in the gale while she remained still, completely unfazed by the chaos around her.

"Is that why you set a blizzard on him?" he yelled over the howling wind. "You want revenge because he disappointed you? You've got to hear me when I say this: The guy's torn himself to pieces over you." In this moment Jack was fully aware that he might have somehow fallen into a parallel universe, wherein he was genuinely defending the Boogeyman. But after all he'd seen from Pitch and Valentina in their heartbreak, he resolved to set past grievances aside. "He knows he screwed up and you're not making things any better by doing this to him."

"After everything I've done for you…" She shook her head at him like he was some unruly child. "I helped you control your powers when no one else lent you assistance; I offered you guidance when Tzar Lunar gave none; I allowed you to have Wind at your beck and call, and what is my thanks? You side with him and see fit to chastise me. And here I thought the Guardians and the Nightmare King were sworn enemies. I cannot back down, Frost. He knew the what the consequences of his actions would be if he interfered with the girl Katherine. I would be only too happy to relent now, but he must first discard of that wench."

"Wench…" Jack's eyes widened in both shock and understanding. "You mean Val? No, you don't understand, she's-"

"I couldn't care less if she's the Sun Goddess!" Nature roared over him with an emotive crack in the sound. "He never learns. He should never have tried to replace her! _Never!_ She died because of him…" Her voice broke off into anguished sobs as tears tracked down her face. "…Because of me."

It took a moment of stunned surprise for Jack to comprehend that she was in fact speaking of Lady Pitchiner, and the more upset she became, the more her regal facade crumbled away to expose the distraught child beneath, who had never healed after losing her family. Ironically, when she had insisted on drowning him out, the words 'your mother' died on his lips instantly, and he could not be more thankful for his fortune. For if she'd heard him, not only would she never believe it, but it would convey an entirely different meaning that would see him ended right on the spot.

"I know you're hurt," he attempted to placate, "and I'm sorry for what happened to you. But it doesn't have to be like this. If you keep going, you're no better than Pitch ever was. For better or worse, he's the only family you've got."

"You talk of family but mine was destroyed an age ago, never to be whole again," she gritted with tears burning her eyes. "As for Pitch Black, he is little more than dirt to me."

"Nature, I promise you he's different now. I'm not gonna stand by and watch you attack him or Val again. I won't let you."

The screaming of the wind suddenly quietened. The gale on the verge of becoming a hurricane weakened until all around them was deathly still. Nature appraised Jack with an unreadable expression, but the vines binding him only grew tighter until he emitted a strangled squeak as the air was squeezed out of him.

"You won't let me," she repeated carefully, sounding the words out as if she wanted him to hear just how witless they were. "Oh, Jack… I never attacked him."

"Wha…" He was gasping for air, already feeling light headed.

"In fact, I don't think I ever could."

The churning of his stomach, which had been slowly making him nauseous for the length of this wretched visit, then intensified. His heart dropped dropped into his feet.

"Like I said: You've served me well. But it appears I'm not done with you yet, my winter sprite."

The last things he saw before his world faded to black were the broken grimace of Emily Jane, and the gnarled, fearsome creature looming behind her.


	19. Who Needs Love?

**A/N:**

Oh - oh my god it's... It's Papers and she's back with an UPDATE?! After 9 months? What a world!

Apologies to any one who has been waiting on this chapter, and extended apologies to everyone who reads this chapter, because I'm afraid I haven't exactly provided you with too many answers. If anything you'll have even more questions.

I have to say I was surprised by how many new readers there have been since I last posted. I mean, the first 11 chapters at least are not easy on the eyes... You folks are the real MVPs, I don't know how you got through it.

(Also...who is that one person refreshing the first chapter 50 billion times? Make no mistake, I see you pal)

 **REVIEWS:**

 _Skyress1:_ Jekyll and Hyde is a great way to put what's happening with Emily Jane and Jack. Something is pulling the strings, but I can't say what it is yet.

 _CrossoverJunkie:_ I think you know my work well enough that I'm dead set on giving Pitch the redemption arc he truly deserves. I love the concept of a Knight in Sour Armour. It's very Pitch. As for Emily Jane, she is dealing with something much worse, I assure you.

 _AngelaLove072101:_ It's great to hear from you again! Hope you've had fun catching up (though if you haven't, the writing quality does improve somewhat around chapter 12)

 _shutupbeaver:_ 1.) Your name is hilarious 2.) I genuinely don't know what to SAY?! I am so flattered that you like this story so much. I've had this chapter on file since January and your review was the kick in the butt I needed to finish it off, so thank you. And I hope you enjoy the latest instalment.

 **shutupbeaver: URGENT REPLY (25/7/18) If you happen to see this, check your PM settings again, they're still off. Or you can just check my profile - everything is there!**

Reviews make me work. Let that be a lesson to you all.

 **CONTENT WARNINGS:**

Domestic Violence

 ** _I have only one request and that is that everyone take serious note of the content warnings. Some readers may find the final scene confronting._**

* * *

Valentina easily crossed the rippling vortex of light that shielded her from the black beyond. One step, two, then three, and her low-heeled shoes were crunching against the residual sand that dusted the hall of the Nightmare King. She barely glanced behind her before the North Pole's shimmering image was swallowed by the dying portal. The light faded, and Valentina's only company was darkness.

Structures and walkways of an ever-sinking city towered above her in the gloom. How easy it had been to forget the sheer vastness of the shadow realm in her interlude of cosy nights beside a roaring fire. How easy it had been to forget it almost breathed sinister hostility. Valentina was no fool. She knew she was in danger. If she stayed too long, the fear, the _hate_ of the man she sought would worm its way into her veins. Poison her. _Kill her._

" _Cupid_."

Valentina dared not raise her voice above a breath. The air was too still—like that of a tomb. Her intuition forbade her from disturbing the silence, as though to do so would be a reprehensible crime punishable by death. Absentmindedly, her fingers traced the fractures that marked the skin of her forearms. They caught against raises and puckers that were forming along the lines, deepening like scar-tissue.

One wrong move and the axe above her neck was sure to drop.

Her call was answered nonetheless. Whorls of pink smoke drifted and collected to form her dutiful little helper, a burst of colour on a monochrome canvas. Cupid looked to Valentina with blithe curiosity.

"Well?" Valentina prompted.

Using whatever sight it possessed, Cupid's gaze drifted around the space in slow, serene motions, searching and sensing for Pitch wherever he was lurking. Valentina's spirits sank lower with each passing second.

And then a spark. The most promising bolt of lightning.

"He's here?" Her voice caught. Cupid's answer came in the only form of communication possible: insatiable excitement that erupted as the wisp whizzed around Pitch's throne room like a shooting star, illuminating even the darkest corners for a scant moment.

" _Cupid_ ," Valentina hissed, a reprimand in her tone, but hope beating thunderously in her chest. He was here. Pitch was here. Now perhaps everything would be okay. Once she explained what the Man in the Moon had meant, once they had both had cursed his name to the winds for his meddling, then everything would be fixed. The wisp seemed to have heard her, and descended until it was but an inch from her nose. It emitted a happy squeal that sounded more like an ethereal sigh.

"Yes, I know," Valentina laughed softly. "Help me find him, please."

Without having to be asked twice, Cupid disappeared, then reappeared in abundance, lighting a flickering path for her to follow. A chill seeped into her bones when the trail disappeared down the darkest passage of all, tucked away beneath a flight of stairs that lined the cavernous opening like a warped set of teeth. She steeled herself against the draft of dank air that moaned from the belly of the labyrinth, and tried not to be reminded of the horrors that might await her if Cupid was leading her astray.

 _For Pitch_ , Valentina resolved, _I'm doing this for Pitch,_ and set off into the ominous shadows, one wary foot in front of the other.

— O —

It had been an age. Longer.

In fact, Pitch couldn't pinpoint exactly when he had last visited this room. The brittle, paper-skinned hand of decay could have sent it crumbling out of neglect and ruin in the last century or so—God's knew most everything else in his realm did eventually—and he would have been none the wiser. Yet here the armoury stood with its cache intact. For millennia, Pitch had disregarded its existence, having refused to confront the painful memories it dredged up out of cowardice and shame. But with the past relentlessly nipping at his heels and showing no signs of exhaustion, he could run from those memories no longer.

Long and relatively narrow, the armoury's walls were adorned with enough weapons to invoke bloodlust in Ares himself. Swords sheathed in leather, expertly crafted arrows, spears, bows, crossbows, a myriad of close-combat daggers. All were neatly displayed in their rightful positions, untouched by his hands nor Time's it seemed. The blades and their hilts gleamed softly, striking despite the low light. They showed no signs of wear or rust. They were immaculate…though the pride they evoked from their creator was embittered at best.

And at the end of this lethal cave of wonders stood a cabinet of crystal.

Pitch stared up at the military uniform of illustrious achievements and noble splendour locked within, and pressed his hand longingly to the glass. How fitting that the golden livery hung on its mannequin should be kept tantalisingly out of reach. Black, Knee-high boots were worn over breeches of a bygone era, and a white, buttoned-down tunic clung to the mannequin's torso. But the ensemble's real statement piece was its tailcoat. Ornamental braided cords—aiguillettes—fitting of a high-ranking officer were fastened to the epaulette* of the right shoulder. They draped in splendid decoration over the breast adorned with silver buttons and were set with moonstones that glimmered. The bullion fringes of the epaulettes shone like spun gold and Pitch absorbed every detail of piping and braiding tucked into its seams. With embroidered embellishments that flared at its cuffs and hemline, his old coat looked nothing short of magnificent.

Except, it wasn't _his_ coat. It had belonged to someone else. A man of the Golden Age.

Should Kozmotis Pitchiner have ever glimpsed the future tragedy that would consume him all those millennia ago, Pitch shuddered to think of the lunacy that the man might have been driven to. Kozmotis had eventually, inevitably lost his mind, unable to cope with the pain of having that which he loved most stolen in the most brutal way possible. But surrendering to the insanity of the Nightmare King had brought a different sort of bliss once he realised, that with his wife and daughter gone, there was nothing left of himself to lose. He had become both a widower and a…well, there was no true title. How could one exist when the death of a child is too awful to put into words? Reduced to nothing, this man had succumbed to such depravity that wouldn't have been right had he still been a father and husband.

A young general.

A hero.

Pitch Black was none of these things. He had far from proven himself capable of loving as he once had; his daughter was alive but estranged; his authority had been exploited for tyranny; and he had fallen so far from grace that even the angels could not find reason to mourn him. But hope was a stubborn little weed. It poked through the cracks of his despair and sometimes he caught glimpses. They were fleeting, dull, and few, but if he closed his eyes he could reach back through the past, almost touch the person he had once been…

Initially, Pitch had assumed Manfred's offer to become a Guardian was nothing but an act of spite or mockery. A way for the Tzar to break the monotony of endless days trapped in eternal solitude, with nothing but the maddening merri-go-round of his own thoughts for company. After all, it wasn't a stretch to assume such a childish man might bore easily. _Dangle the spider over a burning flame and see how he dances_. But after seeing his—no; not _his_ —old uniform, Pitch's conviction had faltered. What if the Man in the Moon was foolish enough to believe that there _was_ some light to be found in him? And what sort of hero did that make him, now that he had left a history of smouldering destruction spanning centuries in his wake? He had hurt people. He had destroyed whole civilisations. Rectifying his wrongs would not be as simple as slipping that ancient, musty coat over his shoulders and just _forgetting_.

Yet, Pitch allowed himself to imagine a life where he might somehow rise. A life where he was more than a mere creaking of floor boards, or howling wind in the dead of night. A life where he was free to do as he required. A life where wasn't just trying to survive. There was a balance that was long overdue for restoration, and as a Guardian there was a possibility he could tip the scales in his favour. He could have even begun to formulate a scheme, had he not sensed the presence of a being other than himself in the room.

Pitch snatched his hand away from the cabinet and whipped around with the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. A little pink wisp hovered in the doorway, wavering like the tongue of a flame as it debated whether or not to cross the threshold. He frowned, trying to place his familiarity with the presumed spirit, then his eyes widened in recognition. It was Cupid. The fragment of Valentina's soul. Which could only mean one thing: she must have followed him back to his realm, unable to leave well enough alone, always following the panicked beating of her heart no matter how much logic might suggest that he was perfectly _fine_. But the question still remained…how did they both find their way through the bowels of his lair?

Cupid seemed in two minds about which direction to go; back down the corridor, or over to Pitch. He took tentative steps to the door, but in the end he needn't have moved at all. Cupid, having made a decision, shot towards him like a dart and collided with a surprisingly solid _thud_ against his chest. Emitting an inconvenienced growl, he rubbed at the point of impact right over his heart and narrowed his eyes at the wisp.

"Do you mind?"

Undeterred by his cold, clipped tones, Cupid appeared to gravitate towards him, pulsating with some semblance of emotion bordering on euphoria. The little thing was almost frantic. It fixated on his hand as he tried to dispel the sensation of heat left tingling at the surface of his skin. He would have to have a talk with Valentina about keeping her excitable minion on a shorter leash. But…shouldn't she have appeared by now? Shouldn't she have already been running to take him in her arms, ready to shower him with words of comfort that she no doubt thought would drag him out of his miserable spiral? Pitch looked to the doorway, still eerily devoid of her presence. He managed to distract the little wisp with the twirl of a spindly, grey finger, but could not distract himself from the way his stomach began to tie itself in knots.

"If you're here, then where is Valentina?" he asked.

Cupid, with eyes that appeared to be little more than dense pockets of smoke, looked to him, then coiled away down the length of the armoury over to the door, a motion Pitch took as a beckoning. His brisk walk was discarded in favour of the shadows, and he emerged instantly where Cupid waited. He peered down the the passage outside, training his sights as far as into the black abyss as he was able, then he looked the other way.

Valentina was nowhere to be seen.

"Where is she?" he repeated, the urgency rising in his voice. Cupid looked to him once more, eyes downturned in what could almost have been an expression of regret. The words of a past Valentina rang in his ears.

 _I can't go back there. It would be suicide…_

Oh, but back to Hell's gate she had crawled, and paved in stone, Pitch feared, was her road of good intentions.

 _"_ Take me to her," he said. "Now."

— O —

There was no mistaking when Victor Dupont arrived home. A terrible crash and a resounding _bang_ were all the warnings she received before her husband's hulking silhouette appeared in the doorway of their cramped apartment. Victor had thrown the door open with such force that it ricocheted against the wall on its rusted hinges, revealing a well-worn groove where the handle had struck countless times before. Out of both habit and a sickening sense of foreboding, Renée Valentine Dupont rose from her seat by the modest fire and nudged the little girl at her side to hide behind her tattered skirts.

Victor stumbled in, violating their peace and bringing a draft that extinguished half of the candles Renée had carefully lit. So transfixed was he by the ribbons of smoke that streamed from their blackened wicks, that he was yet to hang his coat by the door.

"Bloody hell, woman. You trying to set the place on fire?" Victor slurred, clearly having been on the drink again. The tavern down the road must have kicked him out for the night.

"No." Renée lowered her both gaze and her voice. "We just wanted some light."

Anger. No; _rage_ flashed in Victor's glassy, bloodshot eyes as he lumbered over to her. She instinctively shrank away and hoped he wouldn't notice. In hindsight, she should have snuffed out the extra candles herself before he arrived. She also should have sent Amelie to bed. Better she faced him alone when she knew he would be returning home in such a state—only, she hadn't been expecting him for at least another hour.

"And why would you need that, Madame Dupont?" Victor sneered. He was close now. Much too close. Renée had to turn her head from the retch-inducing reek of alcohol on his putrid breath. "LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M TALKING TO YOU, HUSSY!" Her heart was a frantic bird trapped in a cage as she lifted her chin and met his cold, heartless gaze. There was a madness barely contained there, something unhinged that plucked without mercy at the thin strings tethering his temper. Victor lowered his voice. "If you tell me the truth, I'll let the whole thing go," he said, lifting a hand to gently caress her cheek. "All I want 's the truth."

 _Don't flinch_ , she thought. _Don't lie. Don't give him any more reasons._

"We needed it to read," she confessed, "I was giving Amelie her lessons."

Renée heard the crack of his hand before she felt it. Victor struck her clean across the face and she cried out as blood rushed to her cheek. It burned with the agony of having been branded by a white-hot poker. With her mouth stretched in an agonised grimace and her hands cradling her cheek, she fell to her knees whimpering.

"She don' need lessons," Victor spat. "It's bad enough I 'ave t' deal with one of you bloody thinking you know things you shouldn't." He crouched and lowered his shiny, ruddy face until it was directly in front of hers. "Didn't your father ever tell you women should be seen and never heard?"

A toxic stew of resentment and fear broiled inside her. A hatred so strong she could barely stand its feverish torment. How she longed to do things—to make him _regret_. But all she could manage was a choked sob as she looked back at him through watering eyes.

Renée had loved Victor once, so she made herself believe. And as he jostled and roughly pulled her from the ground, she tried to believe the lie again. His hands were at her skirts, greedy and impatient as they hoisted the scrappy fabric up her thighs while he drove her back against the wall. Over his shoulder, Renée met Amelie's terrified eyes.

"Go to your room," Renée whispered. But though she was usually compliant, Amelie now shook her head vigorously, unwilling to leave her guardian at the mercy of this tyrannous beast. "Amelie, now." But still the girl would not budge. Nor would the lecherous Victor.

 _Heaven help me,_ Renée thought, and braced herself to take the plunge off the precipice of her own self-destruction.

"Get off," she hissed, and with a quick but forceful shove she squirmed out of Victor's grasp. He may have possessed an iron grip and he might have been twice her size, but Victor was slow and easily confounded in his intoxicated state. By the time he had realised what she'd done, Renée had grabbed Amelie by the wrist and scurried away to the other side of the room. The table laden with cutlery from dinner stood between them.

"You're telling me what to do?" Victor laughed, a sinister rumble that was in no way humorous. "You're telling ME?!" He pounded a fist against the table, resulting in a disturbing clatter that showed how easily he could break if her if she came within reach. "You are my WIFE, and my God-given RIGHT, damnit! You've got a lot of gall to even dare…"

But she _had_ dared. She had seen her window and flown right through into the dangerous unknown without a second glance. In fact, had she not been so terrified of how Victor was barely harnessing his self-control, Renée might have realised the flame her 'gall' had ignited. Time slowed to a crawl. Looking around the room, she assessed the obstacles between herself, Amelie, and the door. If they could split up and skirt around the table quick enough, there was a chance they could disorientate Victor long enough to escape the apartment and shut its door behind them forever. Yes; they could run away to her father's house. It was four hours away on horseback—if they could steal Victor's mare they would make it. The journey would be cold. Bitterly cold. But not enough to freeze them. They could leave this monster in their dust.

"If you don't do as I say, you're the one who's going to need a lesson," was Victor's hazy threat, permeating the fog of her scheme. Renée was vaguely aware of him reaching for something shiny and sharp off the table; one of the carving knives she had failed to clear away after dinner. At his command, the knife sliced through the air in erratic jabs, though it hadn't left his hand.

Yet.

Then another thought crossed her mind. A dark premonition. A vision that rattled her to her core. He was going to throw the knife. He was going to hurl it across the room with reckless abandon. Oh, it would be an accident, of course, but the blade would still sink into Amelie's flesh. The blade would still kill her.

How Renée knew this for certain, of course, was unfathomable. But she felt it was certain nonetheless. Because she also knew she was going to be the one to change that girl's fate. She would take Amelie's place and thus fulfil the inevitable.

And yet, Renée found herself wondering…what if?

What if, when the knife did eventually leave Victor's hand, his careless aim happened to veer it off its fateful course? Would it perchance skid across the dusty floorboards and land benignly at her feet? Would she even consider…?

And what if—as Victor rounded the table shouting profanities and curses, and Amelie shrank further behind her in terror—she picked up that carving knife? In her hand, would it be transformed? Would it become the key to her freedom? And was it possible that the only lock it would fit was buried deep in her husband's chest?

Renée looked down and was mildly perplexed to see the knife was already in her grasp, but did not question the logic of it being there. She clutched the handle in her white-knuckled grip, bracing herself as Victor approached. With an ugly snarl, he lunged. Renée sprang back to collide with the kitchen bench-top, causing Victor to loose his footing and stumble. He quickly righted himself and threw a punch, hitting her squarely in the stomach. The breath was knocked out of her in a sharp hiss. Victor tried to wrestle the knife out her hand, his arms wrapped around her, constricting her like boa in a grappling hold, and didn't relent until she stomped on his foot with such ferocity that he loosened his grip for a millisecond. It was all the time she needed to turn and knee him in the groin. With a cry Victor dropped to his knees, but pulled her to the ground also. They scrabbled and fought tooth and nail for possession of the knife, but despite Renée's best efforts Victor succeeded in scrambling to pin her beneath him. He used his knees to trap her arms helplessly at her sides. With a perverse leer, he ground her hips painfully into the floor with his bodyweight alone, and reached around to snatch the knife out of her hand. Enraged sobs, the desperate sound of her own anguish filled her ears as she struggled fruitlessly against him. Just as he was beginning to raise the knife, and she was beginning to accept her fate, an almighty _clang_ sounded. Victor's face and grip on the knife both slackened. He slumped, and like a felled tree, crashed to the dusty floor to reveal Amelie, fierce little Amelie, standing behind him with a small, cast-iron pot in hand.

"Amelie…" Renée rasped, so taken aback that it took a moment before she jolted into action and shoved Victor's limp body away.

"I c-couldn't let him," Amelie whispered, slowly lowering her make-shift weapon, still prepared to strike if the beast happened to stir. Renée collected the knife and rose despite the aching stiffness of her body. She gathered Amelie in her arms, whose face was stained by tears of fear and exhaustion. Neither of them took their eyes off Victor. "I had to, I'm sorry. I couldn't let him. I—I'm sorry."

"Shh, don't apologise. You have nothing to apologise for," Renée said, her throat raw and tight. It was a trembling hand that performed the soothing gesture of smoothing Amelie's dark hair out of her face. "I'm the one who's sorry." And clinging to each other in the middle of the devastated apartment that belonged to neither of them, Renée and Amelie mourned a loss of innocence.

Amelie Dupont's happy childhood had deteriorated along with her dear Papa's health only three years earlier. With her father now gone, any opportunity for the girl to learn and grow had been poured away into the bottomless beer glass of her estranged brother. The injustice was deplorable. And it fuelled the conception of a new idea, an idea so morbid it frightened Renée. As she continued to brush Amelie's hair out of her eyes, her tone shifted to the grey between calm and absent.

"I need you go to your room."

"Why?"Amelie asked, her brow creased.

"Because I said so."

"Maman…"

Amelie had started calling her that not long after she came to live under the care of her brother, and it had stirred something unexpected in Renée's heart. On Victor's worst days, Renée had clenched her teeth through the pain of the bruises that darkened her skin, and had done everything she could to calm the frightened girl. She had taken Amelie her under her wing and the two had since fostered a trust that was unshakable.

"Please do as I say. And no matter what you hear, do not open that door." Renée met Amelie's eyes. "Do you understand?"

"Maman—"

They both screamed when a meaty hand grabbed hold of Renée's ankle. To their abject horror, Victor had awoken. Dazed and likely concussed, he snarled incoherent words at them both. _He was supposed to stay down,_ she thought frantically as his grip tightened, _it's_ _not_ _possible_. Yet here was the medical marvel, rising from the dead to exact his revenge. His eyes were unfocused, but his intention was clear; he would kill her.

But not if she killed him first.

With her other foot Renée stomped on Victor's wrist, eliciting a dull snap and a howl of pain. He retracted his mangled arm and cradled it to his chest. However, Victor was not the sort of person who tolerated being deprived of that which he wanted most. He kicked at Renée's legs, attempting to sweep her feet out from under her, only to be thwarted by Amelie wielding her cast-iron pot. There was a dull, metallic clunk as the iron collided with his skull. He tottered in place, that look of pure wrath never leaving his face. The blow should have rendered him unconscious. He should have been dead.

In the space of a moment, it struck Renée; there was no point in trying to protect Amelie's eyes from what was about to ensue, and certainly no time to usher her out of the room. Taking the opportunity presented, she swiftly straddled Victor as he had done so cruelly to her, and raised the knife so the tip of its blade was directly above his chest.

Their eyes met, and everything—Amelie, the apartment, the _world_ —fell away. None but the two of them existed, and between them every word of unspoken hatred was felt. She clenched the hilt of the knife in her hands, her lips pulled back in a snarl. Victor stopped struggling.

"Do it," he croaked.

Her breath rattled through clenched teeth. Her grip tightened in preparation.

"Do it," he repeated, and despite what must have been the most intolerable agony, he grinned.

She felt her jaw go slack. The bastard…would not cower. Nor would he plead for mercy or forgiveness when she had so obviously bested him. Not even when death was battering down his door could Victor resist his obstinance. That he refused to grant her respect, even when she was prepared to extract it from him tooth by bloody tooth, spoke volumes of his depravity.

"Isn't this what you've always dreamed of?" He hacked out a wheezing laugh. "Am I not right where you want me? Put us both out of our misery. _Kill me_."

The knife quivered in her hands, encased by her white knuckles. It wanted what she wanted. It was willing do her bidding. Yet, she hesitated.

"All your life you have tried to ignore what's buried deep down inside. You hide from _it,_ and hide _it_ from the world. Because you are afraid. You're afraid of that power, and all this time you have resisted the temptation of wandering down the darkened path. But you hear it beckoning, don't you? You hear it call in the dead of night. What does it say? _Who needs love when it is so much easier to hate_."

"Stop it."

"No. Embrace it. Feel it. Let it take control once and for all. You know what you must do. _KILL ME_."

"You are a monster," she cried, shaking as tears burned in her eyes. "You ruined my life!" The Devil himself seemed to be dancing in the depths of his soul. The Devil knew not of pain or remorse. He shook his head.

"Not so. I think you've known for a while that I was nothing more than a necessary stop along the way; the piece to a much larger, more confounding puzzle. But you, Valentina, you're the real monster."

Something warm and wet was coating her hands. She looked down. The hilt of the knife protruded from his abdomen, drowning in a pool of his blood. She recoiled and drew her hands away. She had to stop herself from covering her mouth to silence the scream that rose in her lungs. When had she given in? How had she not noticed the blade pierce his skin with the ease of an unpracticed kiss? The blood was darkening. Ribbons of rust deepened to black as the life drained from his body, until the blood on her hands was not blood at all. It was dark and clingy like tar. Like a living shadow.

"What have you done, Valentina?" the weakened voice rasped.

Then she did scream, for the atrocity of her mistake was too great. The man that looked up at her at her in betrayal, confusion and pain—the man she had murdered—was not Victor at all.

It was Pitch.

* * *

 **A/N:**

 _For those who are confused (and since I don't know when I will have the next chapter ready) that last scene is indeed a dream sequence and it diverges from the ACTUAL events that lead to Val's death and subsequent initiation into the spirit world. For those who don't remember, details are at the end of chapter 14._


End file.
